Never look back
by grecian
Summary: The dark past of a certain elf of mirkwood threatens to destroy his present life. completed
1. Never Look Back

Never look back

The hooves of the horse pushed aside the tall grasses that grew abundantly on that side of the mountain, as it made its way forward. The man sitting astride the beast gave the animal its lead, knowing that the mare knew the area well and was happy to be close to home at last. He sighed with weary happiness as his steel grey eyes took in the strong trees that grew among the sea of knee high grass. He had been away too long, chasing after orcs, visiting foreign lands, combing through familiar places, and for what? He was searching for something that he did not know. His was a restless spirit. He sat relaxed on his horse one hand loosely folded over the other which held the reins.

  The wind blew past him blowing his long dark brown hair briefly off his shoulders and also bringing the scent of the flowering wood to him. He gave one of his rare smiles. _Arwen_. Her name came to him in a soft whisper; he couldn't wait to see her. They made their way down the slope man and horse moving as one. As they drew closer to the trees, the mare broke stride and skittered sideways surprising Aragorn from his reverie. He drew his sword, reigning in the horse and quieting her at the same time. His eyes scanned ahead wondering if there were orcs or worse that awaited him in the gloom of the wood.

   Nothing moved, Aragorn waited, frowning and tense in the near silence of the wood. A sudden breath of wind blew again and this time he heard a sound, a faint sound, a sound of pain. The mare again moved restlessly as though in sympathy with the wounded creature. Again he soothed the horse, unconsciously leaning forward straining to hear. The sound came again fainter still. Aragorn nudged the horse toward an old majestic tree. Its gnarled roots were almost hidden by an abundance of stunted grass. He quietly dismounted sword in hand and crept toward the base of the tree.

   Pale gold caught among the verdant green caught his eye. He gasped as his mind recognized that it was hair, pale golden hair. All caution aside he now hurried to the other side of the tree. A figure was sprawled, naked and forgotten in a forlorn heap. One bruised arm was flung over the head in a protective gesture, the other rested on a twisted root. Long slender fingers were still curled around the root, as though the person had tried to pull them selves forward. Aragorn's face was grim. Sheathing his sword he dropped to his knees and began to gently examine the slender body, his eyes and fingers searching for wounds. No doubt this woman had been attacked and then left for dead. There were bruises along the back, buttocks and legs. Hardly any part of the golden skin was unmarred. He gently lifted the unconscious figure by the shoulders and turned her onto her back.

   With a small cry of surprise and dismay Aragorn realized his mistake. This poor creature was no human. Pointed ears peeped through tangled golden hair. A pale, beautiful angular face was twisted in pain. It was an elf. A male elf. The tension that had receded before came back in a wave. He turned briefly, seeking in the gloom answers to this puzzle. The elf was not wounded, but appeared starved and battered. The high elven cheekbones stood out clearly in the fair being's face. His too thin body was crisscrossed by thin white scars, relics of bygone whippings. Although his chest rose and fell in a regular rhythm his lips were slightly blue and cracked as though he had been cold for a long time.

"By the Valar!" Aragorn shook his head at his own tardiness and ran to his mare to recover a blanket and water pouch. He wrapped the elf carefully and then tilted back his head. He poured a small amount of water past the parched lips into the creature's mouth and was gladdened to see the elf swallow reflexively. Twice more he did this. The elf stirred slightly and suddenly tried to free himself from his captor.

"_Sidh__, mellon nin,_ I am here to help you." Aragorn said softly to his charge. The words spoken in Sindarin seemed to have a calming effect on the elf. His face reflected a sudden peace and his mouth opened slightly, "_Ada__?"_

Aragorn felt tears prickle the back of his eyes at the small heartbroken word. This young elf called for his father.

   Without another word He scooped him into his arms and walked to his horse. The elf was as light as a feather. Only two more leagues to Imladris. Aragorn needed to get him to his own father, Lord Elrond a renowned healer among elves and men. As he urged his mare forward and broke into a trot Aragorn was unaware of a pair of muddy brown eyes that had observed his every move from start to finish.

Notes

_Sidh__ mellon nin_,   be still my friend

_Ada__ ,_ daddy


	2. The mind's eye

The mind's eye

   The orc had difficulty keeping up with the tireless pace set by the man. He ran after them using the plentiful foliage of the darkening wood to hide from discovery. He was angered. Never before had his game been interrupted like this. It was not the first time he had hunted this elf. Time and time again he would force him to flee and then track him down like a hapless deer. At first the elf had fought for his freedom, but as time passed, the orc had seen the hope in him change to misery, despair and then darkness. Clear blue eyes, sharp like a summer sky had become dull and vacant.  The once precise and smooth movements of the beautiful body had with torment and near starvation turned to awkward, ill defined gestures.  The elf was becoming beautiful. With a sunny smile lightening his rough face the orc failed to see that the man and his elf had at last come to the boundaries of the wood.

   There he scrambled to a halt. If he left the tree line the man was bound to see him. He glared at the retreating back of the man and horse. However luck was with him still, for the man was slowing. Trusting to his dark gods to protect him the orc slithered forward until he was less than ten feet away from them. He could attack, but his heart was that of a coward. He felt himself no match for this warrior. With five of his own kind he could take him, but for now he held his breath and waited.

Abruptly the man pulled to the right and began to descend the hill. The orc stayed where he was for what seemed to him a safe amount of time and then crept to the crest of the hill. He watched them as they made their way carefully down hill growing smaller in the distance and then, they seemed to disappear all together.

   With a startled hiss he leapt to his feet. 

"Magic!" he growled "Elf magic!"

His muddy brown eyes narrowed as he earnestly scanned the area before him. There was nothing to see but scattered trees and the yellow flowering heads of the long grasses swaying in the wind. Garuk absently played with the short leather switch attached to his belt. A short wicked looking dagger also hung from the tooled leather belt. A pouch with liquid and a tiny sack of stale bread hung from his left hip. But what he treasured most of all lay nestled within the folds of his rough tunic. His gnarled fingers reached for a black cloth folded with care. He undid the folds and brought his treasure up to his nose. He inhaled the sweet scent of stale sweat and rubbed the silky strands against his lips. It was less than a handful of long pale golden strands, hair that he had cut from the head of his elf not two months ago.

   There was nothing for him to do but retreat. He feared that the elven stronghold of Rivendell was near and that spelled nothing but trouble for his kind. Even the bravest orc withered at the names of the elven warriors Elrond and Glorfindel. Garuk had not forgotten the sting of their swords. But he did not lightly surrender his prize, calling upon his dark lord; he poured some of the vile liquid he carried unto the earth forming a pattern of a rune of the black speech of Morgoth. The land groaned in pain as the symbol was burned into the earth. 

    He ran all evening, into the swiftly gathering night. Before the moon rose he had reached his destination. His den lay far under the earth, under the harsh rocks of Caradhas. He gasped for breath as he made his way through the labyrinth of tunnels that lay under the mountain. He lived alone now. It had been two years since the last of his kind had moved on. He had stayed behind to guard his treasure. Secure in the darkness, he came to rest before an old rusted cage. This is where he had kept his prize. Pieces of torn, dirty cloth and scattered squares of animal hide littered the bottom of the cage. There his precious one had slept. Garuk absently reached out to touch a long strand of pale gold that was snagged on a bit of fur. His mind reached back in time and he began to hear the noise that had once filled this warren of passages.

  "Out of the way sluggards!" the booming shout came from a large orc, the leader of their pack. He pushed aside onlookers and made his way to the crude table, where a bottle of tasty liquid stood.

"The hunt was successful sir?' a youngish orc asked a bit fearfully.

"More than that!" shouted Uhuru "Forty heads!" He laughed loudly as he poured out drink for his lieutenants who shared in his success. Garuk was surprised, forty elves taken alive…He joined in the raucous celebration. These elves he knew would be taken to the secret chambers in the dark lord's lair to be tortured, mutilated and finally transformed into creatures like him. The celebration went on for two days.

   It had taken one week for the elves to be taken further into the mountains. In that time they had been the subject of incessant beatings and cruel ministrations. Garuk had personally broken the arm of a young elf and had had the pleasure of hearing him scream as he ground his hand under his heavy boots. It had come as no surprise that retaliation had come from Mirkwood. The elves there had suffered heavy losses and many a grey clad elf could be seen among the brown and green clad attackers as well. It was time to move. The orcs had split up into many different bands and fled in different directions hoping to confuse their elvish foes. But the wrath of their enemy was terrible and many orcs were slain.

    Uhuru however had chosen not to run. He retreated higher and deeper into the maze of tunnels and waited. With him were Garuk and three others. In two weeks the elven attacks became less and less. Uhuru smiled as he and Garuk, hidden behind a screen of craggy boulders, watched a party of elves search for them far below. 

"Do you know why they search so persistently?" the soft yet harsh whisper reached Garuk's ear. He shrugged turning to his leader in the darkness. He could discern yellowed fangs as Uhuru pulled his lips back in a smile.

"I have their prince!" Uhuru gave a soft bark of mirth.

"Come." He pressed Garuk's arm urging him back into the reassuring warmth of the caves. Garuk followed as Uhuru led him into a set of tunnels he had never seen before. He stopped when they abruptly came to the end of a tunnel that widened into a natural cave. Smoky light from a torch lit the area. There to the left partially hidden in shadow was an iron cage. An unnatural glow emanated from the naked body lying huddled in one corner. The elf seemed to sense their presence and stood quickly pressing back into the far corner.

"Well meet young prince." Uhuru bowed to the captive. 

The elf glared at them but said nothing

"He won't tell me his name." he said conversationally to Garuk, but he was not listening for in Garuk's cold heart an ember had stirred to life, never before had he seen such a beautiful creature. He trembled with the desire to strip that beauty from him piece by painful piece. But Uhuru still spoke,

"I will leave his dead body for them to find on the rocks, that should make them howl." Uhuru laughed loudly. His laugh quickly turned to a shocked gurgle as a dagger suddenly sprouted from his neck. Garuk pushed the heavy body off his weapon and it fell to the ground with a heavy sound. He stooped to casually wipe the blade clean on the sleeve of his captain. He stood and stepping over the corpse went closer to the cage. The elf held his head high. His face was a study of contempt. His long golden hair fell over his shoulders to his waist giving him an ethereal air. His lean body was tense. He glared at the orc with clear blue eyes filled with fury.

"_Le lumbri yrch!"_He spat at the orc with all the venom he could muster.

Garuk was well pleased.  

Notes

_Le lumbri yrch, _you foul orc


	3. In the house of Lord Elrond

. In the house of Lord Elrond

Elladan's hazel eyes narrowed as he sensed a weakness in his opponent's defense. He lunged forward, intending to skewer his twin in the mid section. Elrohir however, reading his brother's move well, twirled aside at the last possible moment. Elladan was thrown off balance, but recovered quickly. Elrohir though had had enough. He threw his wooden sparring sword to the ground and held up his slim hands in surrender.

"Enough Lada!" he cried, wearily sliding down the trunk of a nearby tree to sit on the ground. Elladan laughed at his brother's use of his elfling nickname.

"I will have mercy on you this time." He declared, eagerly joining his brother on the ground. Truth be told, he was tired as well. They had been sparring for four hours without a break.

"Shouldn't Estel have returned home by now?" Elrohir enquired, resting his head sideways on his knees. He stared across at the profile so like his own, awaiting a reply.

"You know Estel, he can't help being late. It's a human thing." Elladan grinned in response, turning twinkling eyes to his twin.

As if on cue, both elves heard the pounding hoof beats of a horse rapidly approaching.

"Estel!" they both jumped up and ran toward the gates, skirting around the walls of the courtyard.

Both elves pulled the large gates open. The horse and its rider were still some distance away, but Elladan would recognize that figure anywhere.

"It **is** Estel." He said to his brother who stood beside him. Elrohir squinted in the evening sun.

"He carries something." He said puzzled.

"No, not something… someone." Elladan replied, suddenly serious as his sharp eyes made sense of the bundle Estel was holding tightly.

"Go tell father," he commanded his brother, "they might be seriously hurt!"

Elrohir sprinted for the house, hoping that whoever Estel carried was not gravely injured.

Elladan reached up to take the wounded one as Estel came to an abrupt halt in front of him. He dismounted in one fluid motion.

"It is an elf Elladan, I found him barely conscious in the woods not far from here." Aragorn spoke quickly as he passed the horse's reigns to a waiting elf. Together they hurried to the house. Lord Elrond followed closely by Elrohir was coming down the front steps. Sparing a smile for his youngest son, Elrond directed Elladan to the rooms reserved for the treatment of the wounded.

Elladan placed the elf on a wide bed covered with soft white sheets. He stepped back, allowing his father the room he needed. Lord Elrond deftly unwound the blanket taking in the starved appearance of the young elf.

"Elrohir boil water. Elladan fetch the cordials in the dark blue and dark green bottles on the shelf. You," he said looking up at Estel who stood hovering at the bedside, "sit down and tell me exactly what happened."

There was not much to recount, but Aragorn left out no detail no matter how minute. As he spoke Lord Elrond deftly swabbed the worst bruises and wrapped a bandage around the elf's left wrist. It was dislocated. He mixed a small amount of liquid from both bottles in a wooden bowl of hot water. Leaving the mixture to cool, he asked Estel a question.

"There was no one in the area, you are sure?"

"I did not look far, but no one came forward or attempted to attack me." Aragorn answered honestly. He watched as his father lifted the elf into a sitting position. Elrohir stepped forward and held the elf's head as his father gently poured the semi cooled liquid into his mouth. After half the amount in the bowl was swallowed, Elrond tenderly lowered the young one onto the pillows. He passed the bowl to Elrohir, who carefully covered the remainder. Elladan was standing behind Estel's chair frowning, reading the emotions that flitted across his father's face.

"What is it _adar__?_" he asked.

"Two things." Lord Elrond said gravely, looking down into the still face of his patient. He absently pushed aside errant gold strands of hair off the elf's face. "He is clearly very exhausted. To reach this level of exhaustion, he must have run far. Because of his present physical state, I would say that he ran because he was forced to. Clearly whoever was responsible was close by when you stopped Estel."

Aragorn gave a gasp of disbelief at his own carelessness. Elladan squeezed his shoulder in a gesture of reassurance.

"Second," Lord Elrond continued, "I know this young one."

Stunned silence was quickly followed by three voices asking the same question.

"Who is he father?"

Three curious pairs of eyes stared down at the slight figure on the bed.

"He is Legolas, son of Thranduil, King of Mirkwood."

All three of his sons started asking questions one after the other. Aragorn had jumped to his feet.

"Enough!" shouted Lord Elrond, holding up his hands for silence. "He may wake soon and this noise is enough to speed his spirit to the halls of the dead!"

The two elves and the man shut their mouths in surprise, for rarely did their father loose his temper.

"Elrohir," he continued, "get me one of the elder healers." Elrohir fled immediately. He then turned to the others.

"Elladan get Estel something to eat." Before Aragorn could protest Lord Elrond continued. "Eat and refresh yourself Aragorn."

Aragorn grimaced knowing that the use of his Westron name meant his father would brook no arguments now. Turning to open the door the Lord of Imladris said in a gentler tone, "I will meet you all in my study in one hour. Then I will answer your questions."

Aragorn and Elladan left meekly enough, but as soon as they were out of earshot they began talking again.

"If this Legolas is a prince, what was he doing in the wood like that?" came the first question from Aragorn.

"I do not know. I thought him dead. He has been missing for four years. The last time I saw him he was a mere elfling! It is no wonder that I did not recognize him." Elladan replied, pushing open the door to the kitchen. Both brothers sat at the large wooden table that dominated the room.

"So how is it that father recognized him?" countered Aragorn.

"Father has been called to Mirkwood on several occasions within the last fifty years." Elladan pulled a bowl of fruit forward and passed it to Aragorn. "But as you come and go so often you would not have known…I know King Thranduil will be overjoyed that his son is alive. I have heard that he regards his children as highly as his does his treasures." Both man and elf laughed, for they knew that the King of Mirkwood was reputed to be a greedy hoarder of gold, mithril and silver. "Anyway," Elladan continued, "Legolas is his youngest and is said to be the very image of his late mother."

Aragorn nodded, he had noticed the beauty of the golden elf, notwithstanding the dirt and bruises.

"But who could have done something like this Lada?" Aragorn lapsed into easy familiarity with his older elven brother.

"Perhaps _ada_ will tell us Estel. One hour passes swiftly enough."

But two hours later, after having heard about the orc attack on Mirkwood four years ago, neither the twins nor Aragorn had come any closer to solving the mystery of the prince's reappearance. They would all have to wait until Legolas woke up.

Notes

_Adar,_ father

To Pie, my thanks for your advice. It was most helpful.

To Aura, I am glad that I have caused you a moment of pleasure.


	4. Legolas

Legolas

   A hot bath and a tray of food had taken care of Aragorn's basic needs. Forgoing sleep, he had stubbornly taken up watch at the bedside of the still unconscious Legolas. The twins had joined him for some hours. They had spoken together quietly, whiling away the long watch. At dawn of  the next day  Aragorn finally fell asleep. Lord Elrond relieved Elladan and Elrohir as the sun neared its zenith in the sky. He covered his human son with a blanket making sure to tuck in the edges. Estel did not stir. He too was exhausted. A sad smile touched Elrond's face. Estel was always pushing himself to his limits, trying to prove his worth.

   Legolas stirred and gave a soft cry in his sleep, "_daro, daro!"_

Elrond held onto his hands as they tried to push away an invisible foe. Aragorn, awakened by the frightened cry came to kneel at the other side of the bed. He frowned in his concern. Legolas was twitching and tossing his head from side to side. His breath came in ragged gasps. A glistening sheen of sweat covered his body and his face was pale. His sweat soaked hair stuck to his head in clumps. He groaned deep down in his throat.

"How can we help him father? He fights against things we cannot see." Aragorn's grey-green eyes were anxious. Lord Elrond sighed, looking down at the fragile hands he held in his own. He was unwilling to look into those eyes that believed he could undo all hurts. "We must be there for him whenever he awakens _ion nin_, we must reassure him that he is now safe. That is all we can do… for now."  

Legolas' body abruptly went still, but his breathing was still irregular and his dark brows were knit as though he were in pain. Aragorn placed a chair he took from the corner of the room next to the bed. He would be there when Legolas awoke.

   The ringing clash of metal on metal was what alerted the patrol to the attack.

"_Yrch!_" came the far off cry.

 Legolas raced with nine others toward the sound of battle, his heart pounding in his chest. Even before he could see them clearly, his arrows sang through the air finding targets in the mass of the dark hulking bodies of the orcs. Soon he was out of arrows, but by then he was close enough for hand to hand fighting. He pulled his twin blades from their sheaths and twirling like a vengeful god, hacked his way into a mass of grunting, sweating, stinking bodies. But as fast as he slew them, he could not stem the seemingly unending tide of orcs that poured through the trees to join the battle.

"**Daknor**** ruk!**" the bellow came from a large orc.

Suddenly the sky was filled with weighted nets. Legolas lost one of his knives as the heavy nets pulled him and three others to the ground. Finally gaining the advantage, the orcs brutally and methodically set about battering the trapped elves into submission. Not losing hope Legolas thrust his blood soaked blade into the foot of the nearest orc. The creature bellowed its rage and swung a heavy club at the elf. The club caught Legolas on the right side of his head and for a long time the world went grey.

   By the time he had recovered his wits, he realized they were being taken away from his homeland. His feet and wrists had been bound tightly with strips of raw hide. A dirty rag effectively gagged him. There were two other elves trussed up with him in the net. Their frightened eyes and erratic breathing told of their terror.   

The ends of the nets had been securely tied to the middle of two long poles. Eight orcs carried the ends of each pole on their shoulders. Here were four to the front and four at the back. In this way the prisoners were taken far from Mirkwood forest. As far as Legolas could see there were fifteen nets full of his kin. The orcs set a relentless pace and ran late into the night.

By dawn of the third morning, they had reached the regions of the Misty Mountains. Legolas had no illusions about their fate. There was only one reason orcs captured elves alive; to torture and mutilate them using black magic until they turned into orcs themselves. It was a fate worse than death.

"I will die before that happens to me." He swore to himself. He would fight until he drew his final breath. Despite this, he could not help but shudder, when his captors carried them underground into suffocating blackness.

   Legolas eyes shot open and a strangled cry escaped his lips. He startled Aragorn who dropped the cup of tepid tea he had been sipping. He reached for the elf's hands. They were cold and trembling.

"_Ya__ ier le _Legolas." He whispered, rubbing the elf's hands with his own to warm them. Legolas's unseeing eyes were a brilliant blue. There were flecks of silver in their depths. Aragorn had never seen an elf with blue eyes before. Even lord Glorfindel, the only other elf with blond hair he knew, had eyes of molten silver. Lord Elrond quietly entered the room. Observing the elf's open eyes he thought Legolas had awakened.

"He still dreams father." Aragorn said softly. "His hands are cold and they tremble."

"He does not dream _ion nin, _he is reliving a terrible experience." Lord Elrond sighed as he paced his hands upon the trembling elf's forehead. He could feel his panic, no not panic, terror.

   Legolas and the others had been stripped of their clothing and bonds in the darkness. The orcs jeered at them. They roughly cut off the tunics and leggings the elves wore, not caring if a knife slipped and cut the skin instead. The knives seemed to slip quite often. Their rough hands pinched and fondled the naked elves, as they made crude jokes about their impending doom. Legolas felt a gnarled hand touch his thigh. He squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip to keep from retaliating. To do so was folly. At last tiring of their games, the orcs herded them into cages and then left them alone in the darkness. 

Time passed. Legolas tried to maintain his equanimity, but it was hard. They had had no water or food for three days and the rough treatment doled out by the orcs further sapped his waning energy. Time passed and as it did his feelings of despair awakened. He heard the muffled sobs of a young elf who was imprisoned with him. Only seventy years separated them in age, but Legolas felt the weight of those years on his shoulders now. He felt responsible for their situation somehow. He should have fought harder. How could he tell Uial that their trials had barely begun. Instead he reached for the young one and embraced him. "My Lord Legolas, what will become of us?" Uial cried.

"You must be brave Uial." Legolas replied softly, blinking back his own tears. "You must be strong." He began rocking the young warrior back and forth humming a barely remembered lullaby.

   The beatings started without warning. Legolas, who had drifted into a fitful sleep, was startled into wakefulness by the sound of whips on flesh. He clung to bars of his prison, helplessly listening to the far off cries and screams of elves imprisoned elsewhere in the gloom. The orcs laughter echoed evilly in the darkness. Dread filled him as they came closer. 

They rattled the doors of the cage and laughed at the terrified whimpers of the young elf. Legolas reached for him and held him close. "_Dinnen__ pen neth, dinnen._" He said to him softly.

 "Be gone you cowards!" he shouted at the darkness. 

"No _caun__ nin_!" shrieked the terrified Uial "Do not anger them further!"

The derisive laughter of the orcs was cut short by a barked command uttered in the dark tongue. There was a rasping sound and a lighted torch was suddenly thrust at the cage. Legolas scrambled backwards dragging the terrified younger elf with him. A huge orc peered through the bars. "Which one of you is the prince!" he demanded. 

None of them answered.

 "Answer me or your deaths will be slow and painful." 

Uial began to weep. Legolas stood slowly. "I am." He declared, holding his head high.

The large orc smiled. "Bring him." He commanded the four others. They eagerly opened the cage door and clubbed him into unconsciousness. Legolas fell without a sound. The last thing he heard was Uial's pitiful scream.

Legolas awoke in darkness. He heard no noise, only his own harsh breathing. His back and left side were on fire. His head felt like it was about to split into pieces. He pushed himself to his knees with shaking hands. He felt soft animal skins on the floor beneath him. His questing hands encountered a bowl filled with water and something that felt like bread. He tasted the water and it was fresh. He greedily drank all there was. The bread he left on the ground. He reached out and his hands encountered solid bars. He was still in a cage. He crouched quietly in one corner of his prison, listening to the silence. He knew there were eyes watching him. "I know you are there." He said suddenly, willing his eyes to see his captor. All he heard were retreating footsteps.

The next day, there was water and fruit.

The day after, there was water and bits of roasted meat. 

The day after that, there was water and bread.

Legolas lost count of the days.

   This day was different, when he woke up there was some dim light. A spluttering torch had been stuck into a crevice in the far wall. He could see that his cage was at the dead end of a wide tunnel and that he was alone. He wondered what was going to happen. Time passed slowly. He paced for a while, but tiredness, hunger and the cold that seeped into him from the surrounding rocks had taken their toll. He lay down on his side facing the light. His unbound golden hair fell in a swathe around him. His hair had grown much longer in the time that had passed. His braids had come undone, but he had not the heart to redo them. He was glad for the light, even if he could only see rocks and the cage that held him. He yearned for the sunlight and the stars and the moonlight. Tears slipped from his eyes and he let them run freely. He wondered if everyone else was dead, he thought of his home, his father, his friends. Eventually he closed his eyes and refused to think.

   He did not hear at first when the two orcs entered the tunnel, but their harsh voices startled him from his torpor like state. He leapt up and backed up against the side of the cage that was furthest from them. The same large orc who had ordered him to be moved was talking to a slightly smaller one. As Legolas watched them with glaring eyes and pounding heart, the smaller of the two snatched a dagger from his belt and fatally stabbed the larger. The dead orc fell with a sickening thud. The smaller orc approached the cage and Legolas cursed him with all his rage. 

The orc smiled. "My name is Garuk," he said "you will come to know it well"

Notes

_Daro__,_ stop

_Ion nin,_ my son

_Yrch,_ orc

**Daknor**** ruk,** let fly the nets

_Ya__ ier le_, where are you

_Dinnen__ pen neth,_ hush/quiet young one

_Caun__ nin,my_ prince

To;

Pie --- hannon le mellon nin

Kryspen---- you give me energy

Amy D ----I hope you are not disappointed

Silvertoekee----- May your wish speed my hands

Canon-------- Duly noted


	5. The darkest Time

The Darkest Time

   Garuk watched as Legolas ate the fruit he had thrown into the cage. It pleased the orc to see the elf, this highborn, royal elf, eating soiled fruit off the floor. The elf could not see **him** because Garuk had not lit the torch for three days. True light from any source hurt the orc's eyes and of course, having light would comfort the elf. He knew that elves needed to be above ground to live. Their hearts were eternally bound with nature and things of beauty. In the darkness they wilted and eventually died. However, he did not want this one to die, not yet. He wanted to destroy his spirit, his very soul. He wanted to see that eternal flame burn low, splutter and go out. Then, and only then, would he allow the elf to die. For now, he was content to watch him grovel in the dirt for his food.

 The elf's face was hidden from his sight by a curtain of gold hair, unkempt gold hair. But Garuk could see his thin dirty hands as they swiftly gathered the fruit that lay scattered on the ground. He licked his lips as he caressed a thin leather whip he carried. Soon, oh very soon, the fun would begin.

   Legolas knelt on the ground stuffing fruit in his mouth as quickly as he could. He did not even stop to wipe off the dirt that covered them. He had had nothing but water for three days and the pain of hunger filled every fibre of his being. Finally he stopped eating and pressed a hand against his stomach willing the pain to go away. He tried to breathe deeply and evenly. He knew that the beast Garuk watched him in the darkness. He could feel its malevolent will like a palpable force. It wanted him to give up. It wanted to hear him scream and beg; to lose his sanity and wail his grief into the night. As difficult as it was to make the decision; Legolas refused to die. He would not let the orc win this contest. He knew he could be broken physically, but his will was his own. He was the son of a king; no mere orc would break him.

   Garuk was patient. He waited and watched as the elf fell into a weary sleep. Then he waited two hours more. It was time. He undid the cage door and entered with little noise. He crossed to where the elf lay and stood staring at the sleeping form. Even unwashed and ungroomed the elf was still beautiful. With a sudden rage he brought the thin whip whistling down on the unprotected body.

    Legolas woke with a scream. His side burned with fire! He rolled to his knees, his hands outflung in a protective gesture.  He felt a rush of air and again fire burned into his back. He arched away from the sting, throwing himself sideways to avoid another blow. His eyes were wide in panic as he tried to sense his enemy in the darkness. A soft rasp of a boot, warned him of the orc's approach to his left. He threw himself forward and crashed into the orc headlong. The impact caused the orc to stagger backward, momentarily off balance. But Legolas had lost a good deal of his former strength and his brave attack left him breathless.

   Garuk had no such problem. He backhanded the elf and the creature fell to the ground gasping for breath. Garuk brought the whip down with all his force and malice behind it. He caught the elf between the neck and shoulder. He was pleased to hear him scream again. A most piercing scream. The elf scrabbled backward holding onto his burning shoulder. But Garuk was unmerciful and followed him, striking a hundred times at the elf's bare skin.

   Legolas screamed as the whip came down on the tender flesh of his upper legs. He automatically pulled himself into a tight curl, leaving his back exposed to the blows. It hurt. It hurt. Oh gods it hurt.

   Garuk stopped only when the elf could scream no more. Only ragged, choked sounds came from his throat. Garuk knew how painful it was. He had been beaten with the whip many times himself. With a look that could be mistaken for tenderness he knelt and stroked the elf's head. He felt his prisoner's body shake with sobs. He grabbed a fistful of the pale golden hair and let the strands slip through his fingers. He leaned close to the elf's pointed ear.

"You are weak first born." He said softly. There was no reply except the elf's laboured breathing. "You will not survive this." He whispered. He ran his deformed thumb along the line of the elf's jaw and delighted in the shudder of revulsion the beautiful being gave.

   Seven months had passed before Garuk grew tired of just beating the elf. The creature seemed to have become immune to his frequent sessions. He did not even react to the pain… much. So, Garuk was trying to think of a better thing to do.

   The only thing that kept Legolas alive and lucid during those long months was his memories. He thought of the tall green trees of Mirkwood. He remembered the way a brisk, cool wind would blow throughout the night. He saw the smiling faces of his friends as they sometimes teased, laughed and talked with him. But most of all, he remembered the infectious laughter of his father and the way his blue eyes would twinkle at him across the breakfast table. They always twinkled more when Thranduil had had a cup too much of the Mirkwood vineyard. Thranduil had taught Legolas to fish, ride and hunt and of course, to appreciate a mug of good wine. It was a long time since he had tasted wine. He wondered if he would ever see his home again.

   When he heard the cage door being opened behind him, Legolas involuntarily clenched his fists. His breathing quickened and he tried to prepare for the first sting of the whip. It never came. Instead two strong hands encircled his neck and jerked him upright. Legolas clawed at the fingers that tightened around his neck. He could not breathe. He felt himself slipping into a grey place. His hands fell to his side.

   Abruptly Garuk released him. He let the elf fall to the ground. He quickly bound his hands, raised them above his head and secured them to the bars of the cage. He waited until the elf opened his eyes, then straddling him, leaned over him and said, "Hello my pretty." The elf said nothing. Garuk slapped his face. The elf spat at him. 

   Legolas gave a shout of rage when the orc licked the side of his face and then traced a line across his chest with his tongue. His rough hands found his maleness and brutally squeezed. He bucked against this violation, but the beast was seated securely on his legs. He could not shake him off. Foul lips found his in the darkness and the fetid taste of orc filled his mouth. His body screamed its denial. He bit the orc on the lip, but he laughed and slapped his face once more. Legolas cried out in despair as the orc lifted off him briefly and flipped him onto his stomach.

"No!" he shrieked. He flung his head back, catching the orc squarely in the jaw. But the orc grabbed a handful of his hair and slammed his head against the solid ground. He was stunned. The orc held his head down and with the other hand and his knees parted his rigid legs…

The explosion of pain he felt inside his bowels threatened to swamp him. He did not know when he began to scream. The orc slammed against him, again and again, in an awful rhythm; and he felt as though a hot knife plunged deep inside him, again and again, tearing at his soul. At last the orc was spent and lay heavily on him for a moment. 

Then the terrible weight was gone.

In this way two years passed.

**Notes**

Lyn,  the medical advice was helpful.

Pie, Aragorn devotion comes from an eastern belief that once you save a life, it is your responsibility                             forever.

Elves of the moon.  My thanks and I don't think Aragorn will fall just yet. I love Elladan and Elrohir too.

Lady Jenelly   Your comments are appreciated.


	6. The Hunt

The Hunt  
  
In Imladris, two full days had passed and Legolas was still caught in a web of terrible visions. Aragorn and Lord Elrond had cleaned him with the use of many basins of warmed water and clean soft cloths. Elladan had brought a clean night shift, in which they had dressed him. Elrohir had gently combed out the tangles from his hair and trimmed the golden length until it only reached his waist. Legolas lay quietly now, with his eyes closed; his thick, long, black lashes making tiny fans on each pale cheek.  
  
Two hours before, Aragorn, who had been watching over him, listened with growing horror and sadness as Legolas mumbled half-broken words that spelled out a tale of misery. The picture the words painted had driven him to his knees in anguish. Lord Elrond found him there, overwhelmed with sorrow. He held his human son in his arms and tried to comfort him, as Aragorn tearfully repeated the tale of suffering. In the end, Lord Elrond could not help but weep at the loss of innocence.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Garuk was beginning to worry about the elf. He no longer moved around his cage and he hardly ate the food that the orc provided. The elf did not even try to avoid him any more. He had stopped fighting back. Garuk had made sure to keep a torch lit at all times when he realized that the elf was fading. But it came too late. The elf turned away from the flickering light of the torch and mostly slept facing the tunnel wall.  
  
Garuk searched his cruel brain for a way to prolong the elf's life. He stared into the cage, observing the way his golden hair reflected the light of the torch. The image caused an idea to blossom in his black mind. The thought brought a satisfied grin to Garuk's face.  
  
He kicked the elf's leg, to rouse him, as he lay curled on his side facing the wall. "Get up!" he commanded. The elf rolled slowly onto his back and stared up at a point over the orc's head. "I said get up!" The elf sluggishly obeyed. Standing face to face, the elf was taller than the orc. This irritated Garuk. He tied the elf's hand tighter than was necessary with a length of rope, all the while hoping his captive would resist. Legolas kept his eyes focused on the far wall. He had retreated deep within himself. It was the only way he could continue to live. When Garuk jerked him forward and out of the cage, Legolas was stunned. He had not left that stinking cage in an age. His feet hardly remembered how to walk. He stumbled and nearly fell. Only a quick tug from the orc saved him from sprawling in the dirt.  
  
"Walk elf, walk if you want to see the sky." With that, Garuk started down a long dark tunnel, pulling the elf behind him.  
  
Legolas followed him on leaden feet. The sky. How those words filled his reluctant heart with hope. He shook his head to clear away the dreams that suddenly flooded his broken heart. He began to weep and he could do nothing to stop the tears from flowing. The sky, the stars, the wind. How cruel was the heart of an orc.  
  
Garuk heard the elf's muffled sounds of sorrow and his heart filled with happiness. But the best part was yet to come. With renewed vigor he quickened his pace, dragging the wretched creature in his wake.  
  
They came to an abrupt halt in the gloom. By then, Legolas had regained control of his emotions and was quiet. He sank to the ground at their journey's end, utterly exhausted. His head drooped in weariness and his glorious golden hair swept forward to curtain his ravaged face.  
  
There was a heavy grating, as Garuk pushed open a hidden stone door that lead to the outside. Legolas gasped, as clean fresh air wafted inward and caressed his sore body. Garuk pulled on the rope and Legolas was hauled to his feet. He jerked the elf towards him and caught him by the waist. "Look." He said. Together they stood looking out at the foothills of the Misty Mountains. It was night, a clear night. The stars shone down in all their glory. The sounds of night creatures were loud and happy as they went about their business. Garuk felt the elf tremble with longing in his arms. He reached up and tucked errant strands of pale gold hair behind the elf's delicately pointed ear.  
  
"What would you give to be out there elf?" he asked softly, not expecting an answer.  
  
Legolas's eyes were drinking in everything he saw. He would keep these images in his mind, to pull out and remember when his thoughts turned to despair. He knew that the orc was taunting him. He would soon close the door and all would return to darkness. He did not expect to be hurled forward with a mighty shove. He landed with a heavy thud on the grass, his grace and agility forgotten. Garuk leapt out after him. Legolas pushed himself to his knees, facing the orc with suspicion. From his belt Garuk pulled a dagger. So this was it. The orc would to kill him at last. At least he would die out here, under the beauty of the heavens. Legolas turned his dirt-smudged face to his sky, so that his last memory would be of beauty, not the hideously scarred face of his tormentor. Garuk smiled as he pressed the dagger against the elf's throat and with a sudden downward thrust... cut the rope. He stepped back watching a series of conflicting emotions chase each other across the elf's face, as he realized what Garuk had done.  
  
"I'll give you one day's start elf. Then I hunt you." Garuk then backed into the tunnel and the door grated shut.  
  
For the first few minutes Legolas did not move. He could not really believe that he was free. He dug his fingers into the soil at his knees. He was free; but then the orc's words came back to him. One day. He forced himself to his feet. He felt weak, but he had to move. Looking around he realized he had no idea, where he was. Which way was home? He took one step and stopped. The wind was blowing. He felt its soft touch along his body. He breathed in deeply. The cool, fresh air filled his lungs. It smelled of pine, flowering grasses and earth.  
  
His senses were overwhelmed. The wind blew his hair about his body and he laughed for the first time in two long years. He had to start, now. He moved forward unsteadily, placing one foot ahead of the other, for he could not run. His muscles which had been ill-used for so long protested vehemently. He ignored the pain and kept up a regular pace. He moved from grass to scattered trees as the ground began to slope downward. He stopped beneath a crooked beech, looking around to get his bearings. He was dismayed to find he was breathing too fast and shallow. He had broken into a sweat. His body was trembling with the effort to keep him on his feet. He closed his eyes leaning on the tree hoping that it would respond. The tree swayed in response to his request. It spoke of a meadow of tall grass and a river. They were not too far ahead. Legolas was glad for he did not know how much further he could go. He thanked the tree and started forward again. He walked for at least one full hour before he came to the edge of the meadow.  
  
The sky was beginning to lighten and his eyes were starting to hurt. He hurried now, not knowing how wide and far the sea of grass stretched. In a short time though, the sun broke over the horizon and Legolas cried out in agony. He cowered in the grass, covering his eyes with both hands. It was too bright! Too bright! He could not open his eyes, so he began to crawl; feeling his way with his hands. He felt the rays of the sun on his bare back and though it gave comforting warmth, he was chilled. He could not escape this way, the orc would catch him. Legolas pulled the length of his hair over his shoulders and wrapped it around his eyes. It did not help much, but at least he could use his hands again. He kept crawling, for he did not trust himself to stand. Long before noon time came, Legolas lay spent amidst the abundant green. He could go no further. Anger at his frailty consumed him, but there was naught he could do. Morning passed to evening and evening to night. He finally heard the orc crashing through the bushes. Soon the familiar, hated figure appeared. The orc leered down at him. "Well met, master elf" the taunting voice was full of glee. Legolas made no sound as the orc picked him up, swung him onto his shoulder and began the short journey back to the tunnels. In his heart he knew that the orc would release him again, just to see him fail. The orc however, did not take into account, the stubbornness of elves.  
  
During two years, Garuk hunted the elf five times more. Each time Legolas gained more distance, but not enough to worry the orc. Garuk enjoyed the game, for Legolas had regained his spirit and once more he had the pleasure of 'taming' him. What Garuk did not know was that Legolas was reserving his growing strength. He ate all the food Garuk gave to him, be it flesh or fruit. When the orc was absent, Legolas strengthened his muscles by doing training exercises he had learnt as a fledgling warrior. His eyes presented the greatest challenge. He stared into the light of the torches, trying to readjust, but that was no comparison to the bright light of day. He hoped that frequent exposure and his elven heritage would be enough. He could not, by any means, overpower Garuk, because the orc still abused him badly. Despite this, he was gaining the strength to run and run he would.  
  
The seventh time Garuk released the elf; Legolas turned west and began to run. His pale golden hair which had grown to his knees, streamed out like a banner behind him as he ran into the wind.He ran all of the remaining night and half of the next day. He passed through meadow and scrub land before he reached to a plain of sharp rocks just before the riverbed. His bare feet were nicked and scraped ere he came to rest. He rested for three full hours at the river's edge drinking the clean water. Then he began to run again. By the end of the first day, he knew the orc was on his trail. This gave him the impetus he needed. He ran all night.  
  
On the second day, his speed was much reduced. His legs hurt badly and almost every breath he took caused a stitch in his side. He was wet with sweat. Hope was with him however, for he could see in the distance, almost on the horizon, a dark line of trees. In one more day he would be at the edge of the wild. When night fell on the second day, Legolas was reduced to a walk. Although Garuk could not follow him in the daylight, the orc would do so with deadly speed at night. Legolas had half a day's head start on him and he did not intend to give up his advantage.  
  
When the morning of the third day came Legolas knew he was nearing the end of his endurance. His chest heaved painfully with every sip of air; his legs trembled with every movement. His head pounded with the beat of a thousand drums. The night before, he had imagined that every noise he heard was the orc crashing through the undergrowth, ready to spring at him. He walked like a tottering infant, yet he reached the safety of the wood before five hours had passed. He needed to get to a tree that was big enough to hide in. If he had strength to climb, he would hide in its uppermost branches.  
  
He saw an old and venerable oak tree standing majestically, not too far away. The tree wavered before his eyes as weariness and hunger caught up with him. What tripped him, he never knew, but his feet flew out from under him and he fell and could not move. He made soft sounds of pain unconsciously. He was beneath the tree.  
  
No, not so close! His mind screamed at him. Get up! Get up! Legolas put one hand around a gnarled root... and knew no more. His last thought was of the orc's leering face. His mind screamed soundlessly as all things turned to darkness. 


	7. The waking mind

The Waking Mind

Legolas felt himself coming back to the world of the living. His right leg was hurting and his left wrist throbbed abominably. He must have hurt it when he fell. Fell? No! The orc! He must have caught up to him by now. Legolas twisted his head in negation. No. No. He was so close. He had seen the tree. All he had to do was climb.

He gave a choked sob, not willing to open his eyes and confront darkness. All his effort had been in vein; he had run so far, for so long. He gave a heavy sigh of defeat and inhaled the scent of flowers in bloom. Flowers? The orc never gathered flowers. As he tried to puzzle out this riddle, a thought came to him. Was he still in the wood? Did he have a chance? If only he could wake up. Maybe, just maybe he could escape still. His brows knit in his desperation and his hand clung to what felt like wood. He tried to push himself outward in his mind, back to the world, to confront whatever lay in wait for him, even if it was muddy brown eyes.

Elrohir sat relaxed in an overstuffed chair, which was nestled in the corner of the healing room. He wore a pale blue silk shift that reached his knees and black leggings. His legs were crossed at the ankles and his feet were bare. His waist long, chestnut brown hair was loose and hung over one shoulder.

Elladan and Estel were huddled in conversation in front of the wide window, which looked out over the courtyard. They had been talking for over an hour or more. Elrohir was bored with their chatter. Estel wore a dark green silk shirt, black leggings and black boots. His dark brown shoulder length hair was parted in the middle and neatly combed, probably for the first time in his life. Elrohir snorted. Two pairs or eyes, one hazel and one grey-green looked at him curiously for a moment, and then they returned to their conversation.

Elrohir glanced over at the bed where Legolas still lay sleeping. He was curled on one side, hands loosely resting against the sides of the bed. As Elrohir looked Legolas frowned and his hands spasmodically clutched at the wooden side board; his eyes fluttered open and close.

"Estel." Elrohir called and pointed to Legolas, getting to his feet at the same time. Aragorn and Elladan turned to look at the bed. Legolas's eyes flickered open and close. Aragorn was at the bedside in a moment. He knelt and caught Legolas's groping fingers.

"He is waking." He said over his shoulder to Elladan.

"I will get _adar_." Elladan said, quickly going to and out the door.

Legolas heard a rush of sound and a voice, steady and deep. He could not understand the words. Fighting to awake, he forced his eyes open, but the bright sunlight was painful and he cringed, closing them quickly. He felt a hand hold his, a warm gentle hand. Frowning, he opened his eyes again, this time prepared for the onslaught of brightness. There was a blurry outline of a head. It did not look like the orc's. Legolas reached out with his right hand, trying to touch the image and another warm held took his.

"_Dulu nin."_ Legolas whispered in a small scared voice.

The voice spoke again, deep and musical in intonation and somehow comforting.

"_Estelio__ nin. Lasto beth nin, tolo dan nan galad._" Aragorn spoke softly to Legolas, whose blue eyes stared at him unfocused. He blinked twice and then looked directly into Aragorn's eyes.

Legolas blinked when he heard the voice speak in his native tongue and tension ebbed out of his body. He was in the arms of his own kind. He blinked again, squinting against the glare and suddenly two large grey-green eyes, very close to his own, swam into focus. The elf was looking at him anxiously, his face a study of concern. His hair was dark and framed his face in unruly waves. The elf smiled and the sides of his eyes crinkled causing Legolas to smile back.

"_Man le_?" He whispered

"_Im _Aragorn." He answered smiling still at the wounded Legolas.

"_Hannon le Aragorn."_Legolas replied in a broken whisper. A solitary tear fell unchecked from his shimmering eyes, as raw emotion swept through him. His slim frame shook with deeply buried anguish. Aragorn gathered Legolas into this arms and a flood of tears broke loose. Legolas buried his face in Aragorn's shirt unable to control his grief any longer.

Lord Elrond entered at that very moment followed closely by Elladan. He beckoned Elrohir to him.

"Get a meal prepared for him, something he can digest easily and fresh water."

"Yes _ada_." Elrohir, by nature a soft hearted elf, blinked back his own tears, as he quietly left the room. Elrond walked over to the bed and placed both hands on Estel's shoulders, silently giving support. Elladan sat on the edge of the bed, his own eyes wet with emotion.

The first torrent of his grief passed and Legolas slowly pulled himself away from Aragorn's embrace. He could not look at him again. His shame bowed his head low, causing his golden hair to seep forward and hide his face. But two strong fingers gently but insistently placed under his chin, forced his head back up. Lord Elrond's gentle brown eyes looked into his.

"You have suffered enough _pen neth_. Do not punish yourself further. Let us help you."

Legolas closed his eyes and let himself be comforted.

Notes

_pen__ neth **young one.**_****

_ada_. daddy

_Hannon le **thank**** you**_****

_Im__ **I am**_****

_Man le_ Who are you?

_Estelio__ nin. Lasto beth nin, tolo dan nan galad. **Trust me listen to my words come back to the light.**_****

_Dulu nin. _Help me.

_adar_. Father


	8. Healing

Healing

In a week Legolas's superficial wounds were healed. The cuts on his hands and legs had disappeared, along with the older scars from the whippings. The newer ones were bright pink, but healing. Only his legs were still bothersome. He had torn apart delicate tendons and soft muscle tissue in his race for freedom. Even so, he painfully dragged himself to sit at the window every day; if only for an hour. The twins, Elrond or Aragorn were always willing to aid him, but his natural stubbornness had reasserted itself. He wanted to do it alone. He needed to have small triumphs.

At first he hid from them when they came to change his bandages or bring meals to him. He would bury his face in the pillows and refuse to look at them or answer any questions asked and comments made. Even so, his healers kept up a light banter with him, ignoring his silence. They knew his emotional wounds, deeper than the physical, would take much time to heal.

Aragorn had volunteered for most of the small, necessary duties that went with nursing the elf back to health. He regularly cleaned the bruises and cuts, changed the dressings and wiped him clean with soft cloths. He noticed with sadness, the way in which Legolas would keep his eyes tightly shut and clench his jaw during these necessary ministrations. 

Elladan and Elrohir would change the linen on the bed, while Aragorn held the too light elf in his arms. At these times, Legolas would hide his face behind his curtain of hair. Lord Elrond came daily to supervise the intake of his medication and stayed with Legolas when evening drew nigh. He would sing, with his beautiful soft voice, of heroes of old, the beauty of trees, birds and of all life. Legolas always responded to his songs. He would turn toward the elf-lord, brilliant blue eyes unblinking in the gathering dusk and slowly fall asleep with a small smile on his lips, as night filled the sky. Lord Elrond would stay until Estel came to relieve him, for as they had discovered, when left alone at night, Legolas would suffer waking, heart wrenching nightmares, that caused him to shriek in despair and he could not be comforted for many a long hour. 

Aragorn liked watching Legolas sleep. He looked peaceful and happy then. When he was awake, his blue eyes, always watchful, would darken with remembered pain and he would tilt his head until his long golden hair formed a curtain over his face. Many times he covered his face with pillows when Aragorn spoke to him. Even so, Aragorn persevered, for he knew that elves could die of grief left unchecked. Legolas did not deserve such a fate.

This night Aragorn sat near to the open window in the chair recently vacated by his father. Summer had barely begun and the air was still cool and refreshing. He resisted the urge to light his pipe, knowing the smoke was not healthy for the recovering elf. Legolas lay curled on his side facing him. His hair as always partially covered his delicate face. His eyes were closed in sleep and his breathing was regular. Aragorn shifted restlessly in his seat after a couple of hours passed. He was not sleepy, having spent the day out leisurely riding with the twins. He thought of Arwen then, and his handsome face creased into a smile. He crossed his legs and began to sing softly about the beauty of the Evenstar.

Legolas, hearing the deep melodic voice even in sleep, opened his eyes. Aragorn sat under the window crooning about the beauty of an elf maid. Legolas watched him with curiosity. He had thought at first that he was elf kind, but as the days passed, realized he was human. Well, mostly human. There was something definitely not human about him. Something old and elvish. He had never seen a real human before. Even though his father bartered goods with the men of Lake Town, the men themselves never came to Mirkwood. All business was conducted through elven messengers. He never suspected that _edain_ could be so caring and thoughtful as Aragorn was proving to be.

"Can I get you something to drink Legolas?" the question came unexpectedly, causing him to flinch and become tense under the sheets.

Aragorn was still seated but now his elbows were resting on his knees and he was looking directly at him. Legolas did not answer for a moment but his inquisitiveness, normally a strong part of his personality caused him to ask.

"You are human?" The question was asked in a half accusatory tone.

Aragorn chuckled at the question. He had known the exact moment that the elf had awoken. He had seen the shine of his blue eyes peeping out from behind his golden hair.

"Yes I am human." 

He replied with a grin, absently flicking an errant lock of hair from his face, with a quick toss of his head.

"Then how came you to be here? How is it that you call Lord Elrond father?" Legolas fired off both questions in one breath as his interest got the better of him. He actually propped himself up on the pillows in order to see the man better.

Sighing with remembered loss, Aragorn told Legolas the story of his father Arathorn, his mother Gilraen and how he came to live in Rivendell. Legolas listened with growing fascination as the tale unfolded. He has spent his entire life in Mirkwood and knew little about the history of other elven realms. Truth be told, he knew little about the history of his own people. His father had shielded his youngest son from much of the evil of the world both past and present as much as he could. Legolas did not even know how his own mother had passed.

Aragorn finished the story with a sad smile. Secretly he had rejoiced when he saw that Legolas did not try to shield his face from him. Instead he was studying him with undisguised curiosity.

"How old are you?" the elven prince asked suddenly

"I am seven and thirty years old." Aragorn said solemnly. Legolas gave a little laugh at that, a light hearted musical sound in the night.

"I am ten and one thousand years old human." Legolas volunteered, with a slight inclination of his head.

Aragorn's eyes glinted with mischief as he replied in a deadpan voice. "Really? You don't look a day over a thousand." Legolas's eyebrows shot up in surprise at the unexpected quip and he could not suppress a very un-elf like giggle. He tried to hide it behind a bandaged hand, but his giggle had infected Aragorn and both man and elf burst out laughing.

In the week that followed, Aragorn drew out the elf little by little. He brought him illustrated books from his father's study, about the plant and animal life of distant lands. He knew that the wood elf had seen little of the nature he so loved in four years. When Legolas was too tired to read for himself, Aragorn would read to him for hours. Elrohir and Elladan would join them at different times during the day. The twins would spin elaborate tales of Estel's childhood adventures, which caused Legolas to laugh more often than not. When Aragorn retaliated by relating some of the twin's escapades, they would suddenly remember unattended chores and disappear for hours.

Aragorn tried to teach Legolas how to play the game of Wizards and Trolls. He was making some headway when Elrohir, who considered himself a master of the game, stopped by and kept gainsaying his instructions.

"Not like that Estel. The king moves two steps at a time not one."

Aragorn grimaced with ill concealed annoyance since this was the third time Elrohir had interrupted. The game progressed for two minutes more when Elrohir broke in to say.

"The troll moves perpendicular to the wizard on the fourth pass Estel!"

Aragorn gave a sigh of exasperation and threw his hands up in mock surrender.

"You continue Elrohir, clearly my knowledge of the game is flawed." He ground this out between clenched teeth, rising to his feet. Unmindful of the sarcasm, Elrohir sat in the chair vacated by Aragorn and gave Legolas step by step instructions on how to play. Before they had reached midway in the game Legolas's eyes had developed a slightly glazed over look. Aragorn, who was standing behind Elrohir, gave a chuckle at the sight. He felt sorry for the blond elf. Elrohir could be such a pain when he chose to. 

Lord Elrond watched with clinical eyes as Legolas walked the length of the room twice. There was only a slight tremor in his right leg; on the whole Legolas seemed the picture of health. 

"Well?' three voices chorused impatiently. 

Lord Elrond tried to keep a straight face as two apprehensive elves and one irritated young man glared at him, waiting for him to pass judgment on the state of Legolas's well being.

"He is well enough to go outside." He pronounced.

Four identical smiles lit up four faces. "Only until even-tide though, no riding, no going past the gates and no long walks, not even by accident." Lord Elrond glared back at the four of them. "Is that clear Elladan?" he said to his oldest son who had a habit of **misunderstanding** instructions.

"Very clear _ada_." Elladan answered the picture of innocence.

With an audible harrumph, Lord Elrond spun on his heel and flowed down the corridor to his study. The four waited until the study door closed and raced along the corridor, down to the kitchen to grab a concealed, but well stocked basket and exited the house.

Elladan led the way to the twins' special spot. His long auburn hair whipped around in the wind, getting into his eyes and mouth as he turned now and then to see how Legolas was faring. The site was not far, but he knew that his friend had been in bed for four weeks. He would tire easily. Though Elladan was very fierce in battle and strong willed naturally, one disapproving look from his father made his insides turn to jelly. He would make sure Legolas was kept safe on this little excursion.

Aragorn threw himself down with a thump on the short grass that filled the glade. Elrohir sat gracefully with legs crossed, daintily tucking in the edge of his shirt under knees. Aragorn rolled his eyes and plucked a few blades of grass to throw at his brother. But the elf ever alert for the mischief that sometimes sparkled in Aragorn's eyes, had already moved out of throwing range. They both turned to watch Elladan and Legolas walk slowly to the slight hillock on which they rested.

Legolas had slowed down to better enjoy the sun, wind and scents that pervaded the air. Elladan had insisted on lagging behind with him. The trees surprised but pleased at the presence of a wood elf murmured words of welcome to him. Neither elf spoke. Elladan knew without being told how much this short freedom meant to the younger elf.

When they finally arrived, Aragorn and Elrohir had already spread several blankets on the ground and were both basking in the sun. The basket was open and Elrohir was partaking of its contents.

"Couldn't wait huh little brother?" Elladan dug his toe into Elrohir's ribs. He however, nonchalantly kept chewing and refused to open his eyes.

Legolas gingerly lowered himself to the ground with a laugh, keeping his right leg outstretched. He was tired but happy. In a few weeks he had slipped into a familiar routine with his new found family. Elladan rummaged in the basket for two sandwiches. He handed one to Legolas, keeping one for him and leaned back against an accommodating tree with a contented smile. Aragorn opened one eye and snagged a bit of sandwich from Legolas. He did it so quickly that Legolas was left staring at his torn sandwich with his mouth open. Elladan laughed as Aragorn grinned.

"Whart's zo funny?" demanded Elrohir with his mouth full of bread.

Elladan grimaced with distaste at the sight, but answered anyway.

"The grim ranger is at it again. Must be a **human** trait."

In answer Aragorn whipped out a filled pipe from his tunic and proceeded to light it. The twins groaned in unison as the inevitable smelly smoke filled the clearing. Elrohir ineffectually waved at a puff of smoke that floated over his face.

"Really Estel that is the most disgusting habit you have. I am sure that smoking will kill you faster than your luckless adventures!" Elrohir carried on while Aragorn contentedly puffed away. Legolas could not help but laugh at the fussy elf. He rather liked the smell of pipe weed. The scent usually clung to most of Aragorn's clothing. It was familiar and comforting. Elrohir was still elucidating the disadvantages of smoking when the other three turned to him in exasperation and shouted.

"Elrohir SHUT UP!"

In a huff Elrohir did exactly that.

Notes

Edain, men, mankind

Ivoryil, your response filled my heart with joy and gave me energy to continue. My thanks.


	9. The King

The King

                         NB. Eight months have passed since Legolas first came to Rivendell.

   Legolas stood in front of the ornate mirror critically examining his reflection. He wore a dark moss green tunic over an undershirt of pale apple green. His leggings were of a rich forest green and were tucked into soft calf length boots, which were black. The leather belt around his waist was dark brown and bore intricate designs of raised leaves. His hair was pulled back at the sides and woven into a mithril band that was securely clasped at the back of his head. The rest of his golden hair fell onto his back neatly. He nervously plucked at the edges of his tunic.

   "I look ridiculous!" he said.

 Folding his arms, he turned away from the mirror with frightened eyes, toward his friends. Elladan and Aragorn sighed wearily.

"You look fine Legolas, just a bit thin." Aragorn cocked his head and examined his friend critically.

"Besides _mellon nin_, those are the only green clothing we have left. You have tried on everything else." Elladan indicated the pile of clothing in the middle of the floor with a gentle wave of his hand. Elrohir, who sat on the window ledge with one foot dangling, waved his silver brush in Legolas' direction.

"And if I have to comb you hair again, I shall cast myself from this window. It is perfect. There is no more to be done." Having said that, he folded his arms and raised an eyebrow.

"_Sidh _El." Aragorn pleaded with Elrohir and pushed himself off the bed.

 He grasped Legolas by the shoulders and gave him a little shake. "Legolas, your father loves **you**, he cares not it you wear rich clothing, or go about in rags. He is coming for **you** not your garments." Aragorn held his gaze trying to convince his friend of the truth of his words.

   King Thranduil would arrive in two hours time. The King had sent at least four missives every day for the last two weeks. Lord Elrond had grown tired of having to stop his normal duties, every time a message arrived, needing an answer. He kept reassuring the nervous King that Legolas was indeed alive and healthy. Soon I will run out of messengers, he thought, as he sealed yet another reply and sent it off with a young elf who waited at the door to his study.

   As the day of the King's arrival had drawn closer Legolas had become more and more agitated. He began to spend more time alone in his room. When he did seek out Aragorn he often did not speak but walked the vast lands of _Imladris_ with head bowed. At meal times he ate but sparingly, mostly pushing his food around in aimless circles. He frowned more than smiled and sang not at all.

   At that moment he stared at the floor, shaking his head denying Aragorn's words.

"My father is a great King. He is well respected by his people. I am no longer…" Legolas stopped unable to continue, curling his hands into fists.

"No longer what?' Aragorn questioned. He squeezed his friend's shoulders gently. Legolas raised his eyes, they were shimmering and bright. His stare was bleak.

"I am no longer worthy to be called prince." The whisper was harsh and filled with self loathing. He stepped back, shrugging off Aragorn's hands and spun away from his friends again.

"No Legolas," Aragorn began, reaching out to him. But as his fingers touched the elf's shoulder, Legolas flinched and spun back to face him. His face was distorted with fear, hate and doubt. He slapped Aragorn's hands away and snarled.

"Do not touch me."

   Before any of the three could react, Legolas ran from the room. His soft shoes made no sound as he raced along the corridor down the steps and out the front door. He ran blindly, his heart pounding frantically in his head, full of sorrow. He ran like a frightened deer, letting his feet lead him. He ran as though by speed alone he could leave behind his dark memories. When he begun to weep he did not know, but his chest heaved with the effort. At last he stopped, and he fell to the ground as one slain. His tears wet the grasses under his cheek.

   The trees stretched towards him, murmuring in sympathy with his sorrow. Their thoughts wove through the air and covered him like a soft blanket.

'**_Cry no more little one, be at peace_**.'

His tears slowed and then stilled, he was spent. Too long had he suffered, too long. He could not face the King. He did not want to see his father turn away from him in shame. He felt dirty and believed he would never be clean again.

"_Ada__!_" his heartbroken cry echoed through the clearing, for it was there that his feet had unerringly lead him.

   It was there that Aragorn and Elladan found him some thirty minutes later, for they had first searched the house, courtyard and gardens. He was asleep, if asleep indeed he was. His dirty face clearly showed the tracks of spent tears. He was lying huddled against the base of an old Rowan tree. Elladan knelt and placed one long arm across his shoulders, raised him and slipped another under his knees.

"I will carry him." He said rising to his feet in one fluid motion.

Aragorn silently fell into stride beside him and together they retraced their steps to the house.

"You know he blames himself." Elladan began, glancing at Estel as they walked together.

"I know. I have tried to speak with him so many times about it, but he refuses. All he says is that he should have chosen death over life."

"He is impossible. He could not have prevented what happened. They were all over whelmed."

"I know and he knows. But, my brother, we were not there. We do not actually suffer what he did. We do not know truly the evil that haunts him still."

"Then you think he should give up his life?"

"NO!" Aragorn's denial was emphatic and he stopped, angered by the question.

   Elladan stopped as well. He looked down at the fair headed elf in his arms.

"Of us all," he said slowly, raising his golden brown eyes to look at his young human brother. "He loves you the most. He trusts you implicitly Estel. You **must** be the one to convince him of his worth."

"How can I Lada? When I see his pain I am helpless before it. It is a selfish need in me that wants him here, when he could find rest… elsewhere."

"Selfish or no." Elladan continued. "He must not die like this, for his unhappiness will be carried with him from this world to the next. He is a creature of sunlight and wind Estel, not shadow. There is much yet for him to do."

   Elladan began walking again and slowly Aragorn joined him still deep in thought. He did not want Legolas to die, not ever. He liked to hear him laugh, hear him sing, to see him climb ever so swiftly, leaping gracefully from tree to tree. On the training filed he had amazed the Rivendell elves with his deadly skill with bow and knives. His humility about his skill and perception further astonished Aragorn. That he was a prince meant little. Legolas had burrowed his way into Aragorn's heart and could not be dislodged.

"I will do my best Elladan."

The elf smiled, giving Aragorn a silent look of thanks.

   Lord Thranduil rode his horse easily. He rode in the company of seven war horses, ridden by seven grim faced warriors. There was no idle chatter among them as they rode, for they regarded their duty of guarding the King most seriously. Their sovereign did not often go forth from Mirkwood, but this was an occasion of utmost importance. Prince Legolas had been found. In his heart each warrior was glad; the prince was a favourite of his people. His loss had been hard to bear. For their Lord Thranduil, it had been unbearable.

   The King rode with the fingers of one hand entangled in his horse's mane, the other palm down on his thigh. His mind was still in a whirl. How could his son live? Where had he been these long years? Though he had sent many enquiries, he noticed that Elrond had skillfully avoided any details about his son's state of health. Thus, he imagined the worst. It could be that Legolas had been maimed in some way, even crippled. His jaw tightened as his mind played out many scenarios, each worse than the previous. He shook his head slightly, causing his unbound yellow hair to slip forward over his shoulders. He did not care; he loved Legolas more than the waking world. Whatever his condition, they would face and surmount it together.

   "My Lord!" the call came from the lead rider. Thranduil looked up startled out of his pensive mood. The elven warrior pointed to the right. Rivendell.

   Legolas awoke to the feel of strong arms enfolding him. He smelt the faint scent of pipe weed. He was leaning against Aragorn's chest. The soft fabric of his shirt was cool against the elf's cheek. The deep rumbling beneath his ear was the sound of his friend's voice softly singing. He opened his eyes. He was in his room, propped against Aragorn, who was leaning against the wall for support. They were on a low divan facing the window. Legolas stirred causing Aragorn to loosen his hold slightly.

"I am well Aragorn." Legolas said trying to sit up.

"I think not my friend." Aragorn responded, nevertheless he let him go and Legolas got to his feet, crossed to a nearby chair and sat. He kept his eyes trained on the ground between his feet. He made a forlorn picture. His hair, so neatly combed by Elrohir was in disarray, a few dried leaves were tangled in his long hair. His tunic was askew and smudged with dirt at the shoulders and waist. His leggings were bunched a bit at his knees and his boots were scuffed with dust. He looked so disheveled that Aragorn could not help the tiny smile that came unbidden to his lips.

"Your father is here."

Legolas looked up startled; his blue eyes were wide with emotion.

"I cannot see him. He must not see me! I will not see him; you cannot make me do so." Legolas had risen to his feet, panic evident in his face as the words cam tumbling out of him in a torrent. But Aragorn, anticipating the response had already stood and was holding both of the elf's arms in his grasp. Legolas did not try to pull away, but pleaded with Aragorn with his eyes.

"Aragorn, I am tainted. I am not worthy to touch the hem of my father robes. I have defiled the name of my King. I am unclean…" Legolas' broken words stopped as he sagged to the ground without warning. Aragorn sank with him, pulling him close at the same time.

"No Legolas."

"I am despoiled, how can you stand to touch me."

Aragorn felt Legolas' tears soak through the sleeve of his shirt. "Because," he began, carefully tipping up the elf's head, "you are beautiful my friend."

Legolas jerked away from Aragorn's touch, shielding his face behind the curtain of his flaxen hair.

"Your beauty far surpasses the darkness that tried to envelop it, that tried to put out the light which burns within you. Your soul is strong and will not be conquered. Is that wrong? Would it have been better to die like a coward in the darkness? You **chose **not to flee but to fight and you have won. Let not your victory be marred by the stain of that twilight. Is not the finest sword forged in the hottest fire? Is a jewel not made stronger and more valuable by being cut and shaped by ruthless tools? Your light shines bright Legolas Greenleaf. Do not take its warmth from us… from me." Aragorn stopped abruptly, unable to say more, his sudden tears blinded him and he bowed his head in defeat.

This time it was Legolas who reached for his friend and held him close as the sun's light shone brightly on them. One elf, one human.

   The Lord of _Imladris _stood in the open courtyard, flanked by his twin sons as the envoy from Mirkwood rode in through the gates. They came to a halt a respectful distance away from the three. The King dismounted followed swiftly by his warriors. He approached Lord Elrond and grasped his left shoulder in the traditional elven greeting between equals. Lord Elrond reciprocated saying, "_Mae govannen Hir Thranduil. Baren bar lin."_

_"Hannon le Hir Elrond, no i Melain na le." _responded the King.

"My sons will see to the comfort of your company. Please come inside."

Elrond led the way up the steps as Elrohir and Elladan lead the warriors and their mounts across the courtyard. Elrond's dark grey robes swept behind him as he walked across the hall and through the open oaken doors that led to his study. He ushered Thranduil to a large comfortable armchair and sat in a less well-padded one, directly opposite the King. Thranduil's posture was tense and for a moment both elf lords were silent. Then Thranduil tossed his head in an attempt to shift his flowing yellow hair off his shoulders.

   The movement brought to Elrond's mind an image of a much younger elf, who, with dark blue eyes of sparkling mischief had challenged him to a foot race. A much younger Elrond had accepted the challenge and had lost, badly. He had had to watch that same head of untamable yellow hair fly in the wind in front of him, all the way to the end.

"Have you never learnt how to groom your hair Duil?" Elrond asked with a smile. The question brought an answering one to the other elf's lips and he visibly relaxed.

"Have you learnt how to run any faster Ro?" asked the Mirkwood elf with an impish grin. Elrond laughed and Thranduil joined him. Then the elf king placed his hand on the knee of his friend of bygone elfling days.

"Where is my son Ro, where is Legolas?"

"He is safe and rests now in the upper rooms, my youngest is with him. But there is much you must know and much I must tell." Elrond's face grew grave as he spoke. Thranduil nodded and Elrond proceeded to relate everything he knew or had guessed to him. Lord Thranduil's face grew cold and shuttered as he listened. The last words had hardly left Elrond's mouth when the elf king stood and said.

"Take me to my son."

Lord Elrond rose, nodding slightly at Thranduil and led the way to the upper floor. At the end of the vestibule he paused before the door to the left and knocked twice. He pushed it open and indicated that the King proceed him. Thranduil swept into the room and his breath caught in his throat at the sight that greeted him.

Legolas wore a simple unadorned white shift that reached his knees and black leggings tucked into soft boots. His hair was loose and fell in a golden cascade to his waist. His son's face was pinched and his blue eyes were too wide with unchecked emotion. His body always slender was now almost waif like in its thinness. He was pale, much paler than he should be. His hand shook as he raised it to push away wayward strands of hair from his face. All this Thranduil saw and still could not really believe that his son lived and was standing before him.

   Legolas' heart froze in his chest as he looked upon the figure of his father. The King was clothed in a tunic of dark red and leggings of darkest brown. His black calf length boots were black and bore signs of his recent journey. His hands were clenched at his side and his face was a stone mask. Only his long yellow hair moved in the wind that blew in through the open window. Trembling, Legolas dropped to one knee and bowed his head, waiting for the words of rejection and banishment to pass his father's lips.

Instead, a dry sob escaped the lips of the King and he fell to his knees in front of his son and tenderly crushed him to his chest.

"_Tithen__ pen."_ He breathed and the tears that he had held in check for four long years finally found release. "_Pen neth nin. _Little leaf."

Legolas clung to his father as a wave of warm love washed over him. He closed his eyes and sighed, resting his weary head on his father's strong shoulder. The King cupped the prince's head in his hand and spoke softly to him as he had done when he was an elfling.

Lord Elrond caught Aragorn's attention and both father and son quietly left the room.

Lord Elrond sat at the head of the table. On his right sat Elladan. To his left were Elrohir and Aragorn. It was time for the evening meal and the table was laden with fresh bread, ripe fruit, roasted meats and wine. However neither the elves nor the man had touched a single morsel of food. Three hours had passed and Lord Thranduil and Legolas had yet to emerge from the upper floors.

Aragorn held a cup of mulled wine in his hands. He stared down into its depths. He wondered what was happening up there. He wondered if the King would take his son back to Mirkwood immediately. Aragorn did not want him to leave, not yet. Did Legolas want to leave? Elrohir touched his arm bringing him out of his contemplation. He turned to him with solemn grey green eyes.

"Are you not hungry?" his brother enquired.

"In truth I am not."

"At least have some drink." Elrohir pressed a flute of wine into his hands taking away the cup that had grown cold. Aragorn took a sip to please his brother, but the taste eluded him. Lord Elrond was about to speak to Aragorn, when a flash of colour to his right caught his eye. King Thranduil and Legolas stood in the doorway. Both their eyes were red rimmed.

"Are we too late for the meal?" Thranduil enquired quietly.

"Not at all," responded lord Elrond standing and indicating that they should sit. Elladan moved two chairs down allowing the King to sit next to Lord Elrond and Legolas opposite Aragorn.  Aragorn raised both eyebrows in silent enquiry to Legolas, who nodded and smiled. The meal proceeded without formality. There was light bantering among the four younger males. Thranduil and Elrond spoke quietly about past events and present happenings in Middle Earth. At length the meal was over; the twins bade all good night and retired to their rooms. Lord Elrond went with King Thranduil and Legolas to get his guest settled in one of the spare rooms.

   Finding himself alone, Aragorn sought out the cool of the garden that ran along the left side of the main house. He sat on an elaborately carved stone bench, which was conveniently placed under a willow tree. He carefully knocked out his pipe, refilled and lit it, then began puffing contentedly. He closed his eyes and relaxed listening to the night birds around him. It was no wonder then that he did not hear the elf's approach, until he cleared his throat. Aragorn jumped, coughing as he choked on a draught of smoke. He blinked twice and as the smoke cleared, realized that King Thranduil was standing in front of him. "Lord Thranduil!" Aragorn spluttered. He automatically started to bow, but realized he was still seated. He then got to his feet hastily. He had no wish to appear gauche before the King. Thranduil barely kept a smile off his face as the young man scrambled to his feet. There was a moment of uncomfortable silence. Then Thranduil grasped Aragorn's left shoulder in greeting, surprising the young human further. Before he could react the King spoke.

"_Hannon le Estel,_ son of Arathorn and Elrond. Thank you for my son." Lord Thranduil bowed formally to the young man and walked back to the house. He left an astonished but relieved Aragorn behind.

Notes

_Hannon le, _thank you

_Pen neth nin. _My young one

_Tithen__ pen._Little one

_Hannon le Hir Elrond, no i Melain na le._ Thank you Lord Elrond, may the Valar be with you.

_Mae govannen Hir Thranduil.__ Baren bar lin. _Well met/ Welcome Lord Thranduil, my home is your home.

_Ada__, _daddy

_Sidh,_ peace, be quiet

_mellon__ nin,_ my friend

To

Rath, Thank you for your kind words.

Kenobisaqt, I love Legolas too!

Ria erif, I hope this one pleases you.

Lurker, thanks for the suggestion and info.


	10. A Short Idyll

A Short Idyll

Aragorn lay on his stomach relaxed, amidst the new flowering grasses on the banks of a small stream, which ran through the lands of Imladris. His hair hung in long dark waves about his shoulders and shorter strands fringed his forehead. He was resting on his elbows, as he idly played with a long leaf of grass, freshly picked; entwining it about his fingers.

To his left sat Legolas with legs crisscrossed, elbows resting on his knees. In his hand he held a tiny pink bloom. He twirled it gently, entranced by the shifting patterns visible on the petals. Neither the elf nor man wanted to break the companionable silence that existed between them. They both knew this was their last day here together. At dawn Legolas was returning home.

It had surprised them both when Thranduil had accepted Elrond's invitation to remain in Imladris until Legolas' leg had fully healed. In truth Thranduil has felt almost young again, away from the daily cares of his kingdom and he did not wish his reprieve to end so soon. They had stayed through the short months of summer into the time of fall and thence into winter.

The King had kept in contact with Mirkwood through the use of fierce trained falcons that carried written messages to and from each elven realm swiftly. Legolas' three brothers were overjoyed that he was alive and chaffed at the long wait to see him. He was the youngest, born some nine hundred and thirty six years after Yalie, the third of Thranduil's sons. At the same time, having their father away for an extended length of time was very exhilarating. They did not often get to have things their own way, so they did not protest that much at the long wait.

However the snows had stopped and the passes over the mountains were reopening. The first grasses and weeds of spring were appearing after their brief slumber. It was time to leave.

"How long will you be gone?" asked Aragorn, turning onto his back to look at his friend at last. His heart squeezed painfully for a moment as the rare physical and spiritual beauty of the elf struck him full force. He was honoured to be considered a friend of this first born. Legolas frowned, his thin straight black brows coming together briefly as he put aside the bloom to look at his friend. The naked look in Aragorn's eyes made his breath hitch.

There was a fierce look of love in those grey- green eyes, love that surpassed their race, their maleness and their differences. It was the love that only twin souls shared. Legolas felt something unlock in his heart, for though he had felt an unfamiliar yearning, kinship and love for this human, he had willingly suppressed his feelings, fully expecting that Aragorn's caring of him had been a result of his natural kindness. To see that he was wrong written so brazenly in his friend's eyes brought the elf unnameable joy. His eyes shimmered as he smiled widely.

"_Adar_ will not let me go willingly out of his sight. Not at least for a couple of years." Legolas reached for Aragorn's hands. The man grasped them in his larger ones. There was no need for more words.

In all of Middle Earth in that time and in the ages to come, there was never again such a friendship.

Thranduil stood behind his son swiftly braiding his hair in the ruling fashion of his house. The two small braids on either side of his head were already done. The King concentrated on the larger braid that would hang down his son's back. Legolas was dressed in the green and brown of Mirkwood. He looked every inch the prince that disappeared four years ago, but Thranduil knew better. There were many years of healing ahead. He swiftly knotted the end of the braid and placed both hands on his son's shoulders. It was time.

Elrond, Elladan, Elrohir and Estel stood in the courtyard. The warriors of Mirkwood were already astride their horses. Thranduil embraced Elrond saying, "Until we meet again."

"May the Valar go with you." Elrond replied.

Legolas hugged both the twins at the same time, which made them laugh. He turned to Aragorn. "Until we meet again my friend." He said his eyes twinkling laying his hand on his friend's forearm. Aragorn pulled him into a warm embrace.

"Make it soon." He whispered into the delicately pointed ear. Legolas smiled nodding imperceptibly. Thranduil touched his son's shoulder and they both moved to their steeds, mounting swiftly. With a slight inclination of his head, the King signalled to his company and the party of Mirkwood elves rode off. Aragorn stayed watching, until they disappeared over the summit of the hill. He swallowed hard. A warm hand found his shoulder and a soft voice said, "Come Estel." He leaned his head against Elrond and let his father lead him back inside the last homely house.


	11. Aragorn and Legolas

Aragorn and Legolas

The wind blew hard, stripping the brown leaves from the trees as it passed. It blew into disarray the dark hair of the man who was hunched over a small pile of wood and dries grass, attempting to light a fire. He struck the flint again, wiling the spark to blossom into flame. But the wind gusted again and the spark was lost. He sighed, letting the tool fall from his hand. He was cold and hungry. The winter snows were still some months away but the winds had brought the icy feel of them to the lowlands already.

He was camped in a natural shelf not too far from the edge of the wood. He had spent the last few years watching the outskirts of the lands of the _Periannath_ or Halflings they were called. Guarding it really, at the behest of Gandalf the Grey. The wizard had come to Imladris in search of the ranger, requesting the help of him and his people to watch against the arrival of the enemy, which enemy was vague, but the fact that Gandalf was worried was enough for the man.

However, four years were almost gone and no danger had come. Aragorn had grown restless and leaving his kin to keep watch, had drifted further and further from the edges of the Shire. He was now camping alone closer to the Old Forest.

He pulled his dark worn leather coat, closer about his shoulders, sniffing wearily. He glared at the unresponsive bundle of tinder and eased down to the ground, pressing his back against the bole of the tree that formed a natural lee over his camp. He drew his legs against his chest and hugging them tightly closed his eyes against the hunger and the cold. He drifted off into a half sleep until a stealthy sound awakened him. He did not jerk awake, but listened carefully. There to the left, a faint whisper of cloth against shrub. He opened his eyes peering into the tangle of foliage. Nothing moved, but Aragorn slowly drew his sword. He pulled his legs under him quietly, ready to spring at the slightest sign of danger. However, he was unprepared for the feel of cold steel against his throat. His enemy was above him. He held his inhaled breath, not daring to move.

"Hmmm, a ranger caught off his guard." An amused voice said, as a figure dropped lightly in front of him.

Aragorn's eyes opened wide as smiling blue eyes stared into his. The elf sheathed his knife and held out his hand to the man. Aragorn gladly grasped the proffered hand and coming to his feet, hugged the elf hard.

"Legolas." He said pulling back, staring at his friend in disbelief. "It has been too long my friend. How did you find me?"

"Lord Elrond, he told me you had gone off with Mithrandir. I reached the ranger's camp two days ago. From there I followed the obvious signs." Legolas' lips quirked as he tried to hide his smile. Aragorn cocked an eyebrow. "Obvious, I think not."

"Even so, here I am."

"Indeed." Aragorn took a small step back as hunger assailed him once again.

Legolas' eyes narrowed as he took in the ranger's paleness and the slight tremor in his stance.

"Aragorn you are cold. When last did you eat?" He held onto his friend's arms as he swayed and lowered him to the ground.

"I could not get the fire going." Aragorn gasped pulling his thin coat about his shoulders.

Legolas quickly undid the clasp at his neck and draped his own cloak around the shoulders of his friend. Aragorn huddled in the folds of the elven cloth glad for the extra warmth. He watched as the elf deftly piled the wood and grass into a different pattern and soon had a cherry fire going. A low whistle brought _Sule _his horse forward and he quickly took two wrapped bundles from around the neck of the proud mare. He offered thick slices of honey bread from one of the packs to Aragorn and patted the other. "_Lembas."_ He said.

Aragorn ate his fill, three whole slices, and leaned back content in the warmth of the fire, his full stomach and the company of his friend. Legolas simply watched his friend, noting that the years had left no mark upon him. For this he was glad. Although Aragorn tried valiantly to stay awake, his eyes soon closed and his gentle breathing and soft snores filled the small camp. Legolas shifted into a more comfortable position and kept watch for many long hours. But the cozy fire and the evenness of Aragorn's breathing caused him too, to slip into a peaceful slumber.

Aragorn shouldered his meager pack into a more comfortable position as the two friends walked, talking earnestly together. The mare followed them silently occasionally chewing at succulent grasses that reached her hocks.

"They have become bolder. The last two years, we have had to double our patrols to keep them at bay. But kept them we have. We have halved their number at least." Legolas' face was grim as he recounted the many battles with the giant spiders that lived in Mirkwood.

Aragorn nodded, knowing that lately, the shadow that glowered in the east had grown darker, emboldening the evil things of the world. "We too have kept watch; more and more strangers have come west, always asking questions about the olden days, seeking out forgotten myths. I have had to stay in Bree over long many times for that is where they frequent."

"Even Imladris has had its woes." Legolas rejoined.

"Imladris!" Aragorn stopped, putting one hand to his friend's chest to stop his forward motion.

"What has happened?"

"Do not panic, **Strider**." Legolas' eyes twinkled a bit as he stressed the nickname the rangers had for his friend.

Aragorn grimaced in embarrassment for a moment as he remembered how he had gotten the name in the first place. Legolas' smile broadened at his friend's discomfort.

"Tell me what has happened, please." The ranger repeated.

"Well, Elrohir told me that there have been orc sightings near the borders of Rivendell, large numbers, but they do not engage the warriors, who are sent out to challenge them. They have retreated for the most part. But still some lurk in the hills to the south."

Aragorn digested this news frowning. "They must be planning a bold strike, feeling out the defenses."

"That is what Lord Elrond has said."

"Then I must return. My family has need of me." Aragorn declared.

"I will go with you." Legolas said, glad that Aragorn had made the decision. The two turned east and made for the East - West road that would lead them to the south of Rivendell.

The three orcs snarled as the three elves, two dark haired and one golden sat their horses quietly. They were less than a league away from the rocks behind which the orcs hid. The elves had been there for the last four hours and showed no intention of moving.

"Let's go round 'em and carve 'em up." Darnik growled in his captain's mangled ear. Garuk shook his head silently.

"They know we are here." He whispered back harshly.

"Then let us retreat sir." Mordurk's gravelly growl was meant to be a whisper, but across the way Lord Glorfindel inclined his head staring directly at their hiding place.

"Back, back you spawn of slugs!" Garuk crawled backward on his elbows and knees, his anger numbing the pain of the sharp nicks he received from the rugged rocks about them. Soon, soon he promised himself, the ground would be bathed in elf blood. He stopped for a moment to pull a swath of long flaxen hair from his leather jerkin. He sniffed it, running the soft silken strands across his marred cheeks. Not this one though, no death for this one. This one was his.

Aragorn leaned low on the mare's back, urging her on. The horse ran smoothly as though sensing her rider's need. At her side matching her pace ran Legolas. The elf's feet were a blur of movement as they ran up the slope of a high hill. At the summit they stopped. Aragorn quickly dismounted, giving Legolas and _Sule_ a chance to catch their breath. They had been taking turns to ride the horse so that she would not be worn out by their combined weight.

"Your turn _mellon nin._" Aragorn said.

"I can go on… a bit further." Replied the elf between breaths.

"There is no need." Aragorn responded. "I would have you reach Rivendell alive. Besides I can run as fast as you can."

"Yes," replied Legolas with a quick grin, "but not as long."

"Even so you **will** ride." Aragorn said jutting out his jaw stubbornly. Legolas simply nodded, knowing better than to argue with that look. He was bent over slightly, long hands resting on his knees as he brought his breathing under control.

Aragorn shaded his eyes with his hands surveying the lands that lay in the distance. They still had to reach the peak of the Northern pass. For all their speed the journey had taken two weeks and Aragorn was loathe to tarry longer. In his heart he felt that his family needed him.

Elrohir held his breath and his eyes narrowed slightly as he released his arrow. It flew true imbedding itself deep into the left eye of an orc. The brutish creature gave a pitiful yelp and fell to the ground dead. The rest of the pack was startled into flight. Elrohir stepped out from behind the tree, his bow hand dropping. To his left Elladan rose from the leaf littered ground sword also dropping to his side.

"Why will they not fight back?" Elrohir ground out between his teeth.

"They are baiting us." Elladan replied, frowning as he thought. There were twenty elves of Rivendell hidden in this area among the trees. Each was armed with a bow and sword. So far they had killed at least fifteen orcs in the last month. But each time they attacked, the horrible creatures would run away higher into the mountains or across the plains to the forest.

Lord Glorfindel approached the twins at a fast walk. "They are gone for now. Let us return. It would not be wise to remain here as night falls."

Night was slowly falling as the two riders descended the rocky incline that led to Rivendell. Aragorn and Legolas had decided to forego the more commonly used route that lay to the south and instead had circled to the north, taking the path down the mountain side. But as _Sule_ skidded slightly on a loose patch of shale, nearly unseating Aragorn, he wondered if they had made a mistake. He involuntarily and suddenly tightened his hold around Legolas' waist, causing the elf to gasp in surprise.

"Sorry!" Aragorn said with a sheepish grin, that Legolas could not see. He felt the elf's body shake with mirth. They had scarcely traveled one league more when a black arrow twanged into the earth in front of them.Startled _Sule _reared, her front hooves waving angrily in the air, nostrils dilating. Aragorn fell with a yelp of surprise taking Legolas with him. The elf fell on top of him squashing the air from his lungs. Legolas rolled to one knee immediately, his arrow notched and ready to fly. His eyes darted left and right in the fading light, but no target moved. Another black arrow sang through the air burying itself in the earth away to his left. He shot in that direction, not knowing if he hit anything. At his side Aragorn had drawn his bow.

"Back behind these rocks!" Aragorn called sliding backwards behind two craggy boulders that stood a little to their right. Legolas rolled again coming to rest against Aragorn's shoulders. "I cannot see them." He panted, blue eyes searching the lower slopes.

"They are hidden behind those boulders." Aragorn whispered nodding to a screen of large rocks that lay almost at the foot of the mountains just beyond the tree line.

"We must move, or they will pin us down." Legolas said in his ear. "They can work their way above us if we remain."

"I know, but if we move we risk injury. There are no large rocks near enough for us to take cover." Aragorn replied quickly. Legolas risked a look, peeping out from behind their hiding place. Immediately an arrow whistled through the air burying itself close to where they hid. He pulled back. "I see what you mean." He said with wry humor.

The elves all stopped as the sound of a single galloping horse reached their ears. At a signal from the elf lord the warriors melted into the trees, their bows stretched, arrows notched. A white mare, rider less, bore down on them, ears flattened against her skull. She wore no halter or saddle; an elven steed. She stumbled to a stop as though sensing their presence. Glorfindel approached the horse speaking softly to the distressed animal. He laid his hand on her heaving flanks. She snorted, nudging him with her muzzle.

Elladan and Elrohir came forward looking at he horse curiously. Elladan held her head, peering at the tooled leather insignia that decorated her brow. "It is the crest of Mirkwood." He said suddenly looking across at the elf lord.

"Legolas!" all three exclaimed together.

"She came from the mountains!" Elrohir said looking up toward the northern pass. Without another word the golden haired warrior lord began to run, leading his band of fighters to the foothill of the Northern Mountains.

Notes

_Mellon nin _my friend

To

Ria Erif. I'm glad you liked it.

Amy. I hope this little of Garuk whet your appetite for more. Thank you for your kind words.

Ivoryi Your words were precious to me.

L.M. Lachance. Feel free to sound hokey anytime. It was deeply appreciated.

Solitare. Thank you for your blessings.

Silvertoekee. There are more sniffles ahead, hope you like them.

Twilight Unicorn. You left me speechless. Hannon le.


	12. The battle

The Battle

They were cornered. The orcs kept up a barrage of arrows in an attempt to keep them where they were. Garuk was pleased. These two would be first; their blood would stain the rocks of the mountains. Since losing his pet some five years ago, Garuk had made his way back to the tunnels of the Misty Mountains gathering rogue and wandering orcs to him as he went. Never had he forgotten Rivendell. It was the place where his precious one awaited him. He had scouted the area many times, using the rune he had burned into the earth as a marker. Frustration had mounted as we realized that he could not approach the elven realm. It was invisible to him and thus protected. But many travelers went to and from the place, elven and human alike.

He had witnessed the arrival of the Lord of Mirkwood and had waited. But the seasons had passed and the cold chill of winter had driven him back to his lair. By the time of spring rains, the elven brat was back and safe in Mirkwood. Garuk had decapitated two of his lieutenants in anger. He knew that the elves of Mirkwood had become ceaselessly vigilant and it was impossible to stand against them now.

Years passed and Garuk had contented himself with forays into human villages and waylaying unwary travelers. But one day his spies had reported the unexpected departure of the prince from the fortress of Thranduil, but again the news had reached his ears too late. By the time he picked up the trail, the elf was ensconced once again in Rivendell. Garuk bided his time and slowly realization dawned. If he could not get to the elves, he had to make them come to him. He regretted that it was not he who had seen the flaxen haired elf return to Rivendell, otherwise this skirmish would be unnecessary. Although Garuk had to admit any excuse to kill elves was a good one.

The hunter's moon was up. It was almost perfectly round and gave off a pale but steady yellow light. Aragorn squinted up at the sky in disgust and said. "Perfect, just what we need."

He casually shot and killed another orc that had tried to sneak up and around them. The bodies of nine orcs littered the mountain slope. At his side Legolas quietly counted their remaining arrows, using his fingers as eyes. He touched the shafts of each in turn quickly. There were only twenty five left.

"At least it works both ways my friend, they cannot hide from us either." He said, glancing at his human companion quickly. He had been staring at a line of low boulders that stretched more or less in a line all the way down the slope. They stopped about three hand spans from the tree line. Unfortunately the first boulder in that line was five hand spans away from their refuge. The orcs were concentrated mostly to their left and across from them. The boulders lay to their right.

An arrow suddenly buried itself in the earth near his booted foot, sending a spray of pebbles and dirt in his face. His lips pulled back in a silent snarl. He quickly divided their small number of arrows into two piles. He pulled an unwary Aragorn closer to him and said pointing.

"See that line of rocks there?"

"I see them." Aragorn responded puzzled.

"When the clouds next hide the moon's face, run for them. Keep running until you get to the trees, stay in the tree tops as long as you can. I will be right behind you."

Legolas' eyes were bright and burning with intense emotion. It was the rush that warriors felt on the eve of a battle, part fear and part anger and part excitement. Aragorn licked his suddenly dry lips; he knew they did not stand much chance of surviving that run. But their arrows were almost spent and the orcs were drawing closer despite their efforts. Legolas put twelve arrows in his quiver and held one loose but ready. The other twelve he gave to Aragorn. If he got the chance, he would use them. The clouds, heavy with unspent rain drifted achingly slow towards the moon. But at last darkness descended on the mountain's face.

"Now!" Legolas whispered giving Aragorn a shove. The elf leapt straight up, gracefully and almost impossibly to the top of the boulder behind which they had been hiding. He fired his arrows in quick succession, targeting the brutish beasts as they clumsily tried to find cover. Eleven, twelve, thirteen… turning, his golden hair spilling over his shoulders, he started to run. He leapt from the rock twisting in midair to land crouched on the top of the first boulder in the long line. He threw himself to the ground as an arrow whistled past his face. He heard the horrible bellow of an orc and his heart began to pound in his chest as he remembered that day five years ago.

Pushing himself to his feet, he ran full speed down the mountain side, trusting to his senses to guide him. Ahead he heard the shifting, scrambling, slipping sounds of Aragorn who was running full out. Not an arrow pierced the air, but the earth trembled as the horde of orcs, like a stampede of bulls gave chase. He did not stop to wonder why. Without warning light, pale but steady made him blink. He saw some ten spans in front of him the fleeing back of his friend. He could also see that the trees were close, much closer than he expected.

"DOWN!" the shouted command came from ahead. Without stopping to think or question why, both Aragorn and Legolas threw themselves to the stony ground. The singing of arrows filled the sky over their heads as elf after elf shot with determined precision at the hundred odd orcs that thundered down the slopes. Half their number dropped, stopped dead in their tracks. There was another bellow and as a body they wheeled, running with all their might away from the wrath of the elves.

"_Daro!_" Glorfindel shouted as some elves started to follow them."Get back to Rivendell. Get your horses and supplies. We will do this properly or not at all. I do not want one orc to leave here alive, not one!"

The warriors turned and headed back down the slope at a run. Glorfindel turned to the fallen companions. Elladan was gently helping Aragorn to his feet. The ranger's face was nicked with tiny cuts. Elrohir was supporting Legolas as he struggled to stay upright. He had fallen awkwardly and his knees and legs were bruised.

"Are you hurt?" asked Glorfindel

"Only my pride," Legolas returned with a wry grin.

"It is good to see you brother." Elladan said hugging the ranger.

"Elladan, you don't know how good it was to see you, all of you." Aragorn returned grinning broadly. The three elves chuckled. "You have Legolas' horse to thank for that." Elrohir chimed in.

_"Sule_!" Legolas exclaimed "Is she well?"

"Only a wood elf would at such a question," said Elladan staring up at the sky. Before Legolas could respond, Glorfindel put a hand on his shoulders.

"Come young ones, we have much to do this night, this greeting can he left for a later, safer time."

Garuk ran with a burning heart and a pounding head. He had come very close to killing the very thing he desired most. In his mind's eye he could still see the elf as he leapt, turning elegantly in the air to land artfully on a craggy perch. He longed to run his calloused palms along those lithe legs. The orc who had fired that last arrow had not lived to repeat his mistake. Garuk knew that the elves would be after them soon. But they did not know that he was prepared. Hidden at measured intervals were several of his troops. They were to herd the elves to the area where the majority of his force lay. There the killing would begin. But he must be careful. Every orc in his command must be made aware that one elf was not to be touched.

The company of elves numbered two hundred. Glorfindel divided them into four battalions. He would lead the first; Elladan would lead the next, Elrohir the third. The last he left to Veren a seasoned campaigner against the orcs and his dear friend. The companies moved off, riding abreast of each other. Lord Elrond watched them go, a worried frown on his face. He did not like this. The orc forays had had a malicious pattern to them that nagged at his mind. Even though all the casualties had been on the side of the enemy, he was not appeased. There was a larger force out there somewhere. Yet he trusted in the skill of his friends Glorfindel and Veren to gain victory. Yet still something nagged at his mind.

He had had a brief reunion with Estel, for the young man had been determined to join the company in the defense of his home. Legolas too had insisted on going. Elrond had tried to dissuade the young elf.

"There is no need for you to go Legolas, Glorfindel and Veren are apt warriors." He had said with concern for Elrond knew that Legolas had not faced orcs in battle since his abduction. He was worried that he was not truly prepared and the upcoming battle would be too much for him. His mind was heavily against the youth going. Legolas however insisted.

"I need to do this my Lord. I need to."

Legolas was indeed afraid but he knew he needed to prove to himself that he had overcome his painful past; otherwise he would always live in the shadows.

The elves rode up the grassy slope away to the south. They spread out forming a loose V. Glorfindel took point to the left Elladan right. The moon was bright. It lit up the plains as they rode slowly. Even so the attack came as a surprise. Black arrows suddenly pierced the air accompanied by whoops and hollers from harsh orc voices. Glorfindel responded shouting, "_Gurth__ an glamhoth!"_ His company attacked, leaving the others to circle around, cutting off any attempts at escape. The orcs were cut down rapidly as elven arrows picked them off with fatal accuracy in the moonlight. A few horses were injured slightly, but could still be ridden.

Three times more they were attacked. Each time the elves prevailed, for the attackers were small in number, but their ultimate goal was gained. The elves had spent at least half of their arrows and many horses carried two warriors instead of one.

As they approached the trees of the old wood Lord Glorfindel signaled a halt. He could feel the presence of the orcs among the trees. He held up his right hand and let it drop. Swiftly the elves dismounted.

Garuk felt the press of fear as he watched them come. The ambush was well laid, but it had been laid for mounted riders, not archers on foot. He growled deep in his throat as they stopped, arrows pointed at the trees where his small army hid.

Legolas held his breath as the elf lord gave the signal to hold. His bow was taunt, his arrow notched as were the bows of every other elven and lone, part elven warrior. They were not going to enter the wood. The orcs would have to come to them.

Dismayed Garuk thought quickly. His rapid fire instructions to his closest lieutenant spread to the twenty orcs nearest him. Garuk then bellowed into the night and the orcs moved forward, murder and rage in their hearts.

Arrows from both sides rained down from the night sky. The orcs crashed into the elven fighters in an attempt to use their superior weight to grind them into the ground.

The orcs numbered four hundred.

Aragorn ducked as the curved blade sliced through the air where his neck had been seconds before. Sweeping his own blade in a smooth arc he cut through the leg of the orc. It fell screeching in pain. He silenced it forever with a quick thrust of his sword.

Legolas shot off four quick arrows killing three orcs before they were upon him. The scent of their bodies nearly made him gag as he twirled his knives cutting across the throat of one and stabbing through the eye of another. Two of them rammed into him causing him to stagger back and fall to the ground. Reacting in panic he twisted left then right slashing at their hands as they grappled to subdue him. The orcs fell back screaming in rage. Four arrows sang through the air catching them in the throat and head.

"Legolas?" Glorfindel called, for it was he who had shot the orcs. Legolas jumped to his feet unhurt and nodded heartfelt thanks to the elf lord. But, before he could gather his wits, four burly orcs slammed into him again.

"Aragorn! Elladan! They are trying to take the prince!' Glorfindel shouted swinging his sword at a bear of an orc that challenged him suddenly. The elf lord had noticed that the orcs attacking the prince carried no weapons. Obviously they wanted him alive. He would be dead before he let that happen, the elfling had been through enough. He swore under his breath as the orc he was fighting clubbed him in the side. He spun slicing at the offending arm that held the club. The orc blocked well and all he chopped was wood.

Aragorn dived toward his friend upon hearing the words of the elf lord. He kicked at the unprotected side of an orc that straddled the wildly thrashing prince and ran his sword through the shoulder of one that was desperately trying to hold onto the prince's legs. He could hear Legolas screaming in rage. A fist smacked his jaw soundly and Aragorn staggered backward momentarily stunned.

At the reprieve two more orcs lifted the prince into the air, but Legolas was in a state of hysterical frenzy and he arched against them and let himself drop downward. The move broke the hold of the orc that held his arms and his upper body hit the ground painfully.

Elladan, dispatching the orc that had tried to gut him, knelt in the high grass and released two arrows at the orcs that held his friend. One stabbed through the hands of one, the other entered the ear of the other.

Aragorn grabbed at Legolas' shoulders and dragged him backward. Four elves formed a small wall in front of them, firing at the orcs that tried to surge forward.

Aragorn knelt over the elf and felt along his friend's body for any injuries he might have received as the clouds once again hid the moon light.

"Let me up Aragorn!" Aragorn moved back and Legolas scrambled to his feet. He was panting with fear. As the moon rode out from behind the clouds once more Aragorn saw that his friend's blue eyes were impossibly huge in his delicate face. His face was smudged with dirt and dried blood. His hair was in disarray and hung in ragged strands about him. His tunic was torn in several places and his weapons were gone.

"Legolas, Aragorn, take these horses and ride for home." It was Elrohir, with a bloodied face and a ripped tunic. He had braved three orcs to secure the horses.

"I will follow you, go now!" Elladan called as he came running up to them a bow held loosely in one hand.

Legolas and Aragorn mounted swiftly and wheeling in unison took off at a dead run for Rivendell. Elladan whistled piercingly into the night above the sound of the raging battle. His stallion _Lacho_ galloped forward trampling two orcs that stood in his way. He leapt onto his steed's back as the horse barely broke stride as it swept toward him, he loosed two more arrows at a bold orc that was creeping up behind his brother.

"Be safe _muindor nin._" He called back to Elrohir as he rode away into the wind. Elrohir did not answer. His full attention was needed as three orcs attacked him simultaneously.

Garuk had stayed back in the shelter of the forest as the battle progressed; now he shook with uncontrollable fury as his prize rode away. No! He would not be cheated, he would not! He ran like a mad thing, crashing through the undergrowth until he came to his own mount. The warg snarled at him for his sudden appearance had startled it. He had killed her former master just two days ago and she was wary of him still. However the angry malice that rolled off him quickly subdued her. He clambered onto her shoulders and hit her flank with the flat of his sword. The warg broke into an angry loping gallop. Garuk yanked at the cruel bit directing the beast to the north.

Legolas and Aragorn leaned low over the necks of their steeds as the elven horses rode like the wind across the open plain. Legolas clutched onto _Sule's_mane as though it was the rudder of his floundering ship. Panic made his body tremble and he tried hard to calm his racing heart. Both riders heard over the pounding of their horses hooves the galloping of another rider coming up fast behind them. Elladan, thought Aragorn, slowing slightly to let his brother catch up.

Garuk took aim carefully as he rode. The arrow flew with swift precision catching the white horse in the upper leg. She squealed in pain as her left leg buckled under her. Legolas was flung head first and he hit the ground hard. He rolled once then lay limp as a doll, eyes closed.

The only weapon Aragorn had left was his sword and he was too far away to use it. He gave a cry of rage as he turned his horse. The orc had stopped, leapt off his beast and begun to lope over to the still form on the ground. He shouted again, drew his sword and charged the orc.

Garuk stopped having temporarily forgotten the human, the same accursed human who had taken his pet. He growled and readied his short but powerful bow.

Heedless of the danger Aragorn rode like a demented thing closing the gap between them. Garuk released his arrow.

Elladan watched it all happen as though time itself had slowed to play out the scene before him with utmost clarity. He saw the black arrow fly, singing a song of death on the wind. He saw Estel deflect the blow bringing up his sword to his chest. Impossibly swift, another arrow came on the night wind and this time he saw it hit his brother, taking him low in the shoulder. Estel jerked and seemed to fall forever, hitting the earth like a dead man. He realized that the voice that was screaming was his own. The orc moved with a slow sideways skitter reaching for the long golden hair of the fallen prince. Elladan did not know when he fitted arrow to bow, but with a mighty shout he loosed two deadly barbs at the orc… and missed.

Garuk jumped backward and the deadly projectiles hissed past his chest and head. He snarled and turned. It was another elf, an enraged elf. He quickly pulled his dagger from his belt and held it under the chin of the golden haired prince. The elf stopped. He was astride his horse still, bow taunt. Two arrows were aimed straight at his head.

"Release them and he dies." Garuk growled bending Legolas' head backward.

"Let him go beast!" Elladan's words were cold and clipped. He looked at Legolas. The prince's eyes were closed and blood trickled down his face from beneath his golden hair.

"That one'll die for sure if yer do not tend ter 'im soon." Garuk said pointing with his jaw at the bleeding human. Elladan did not need to look to know that the brute was right. His heart did a crazy dance in his chest. He could not let his brother die. He could not let that thing take his friend.

Garuk saw the indecision on his face and began dragging the elf by the hair toward his mount.

"Stop!" Elladan shouted dismounting sideways, all the while holding his bow steadily on the orc. He walked forward until he stood over Aragorn's body.

"There is no one to help you elf. You are alone and far from home." Garuk taunted.

At that moment Aragorn groaned and Elladan risked a glance down. Estel's face was pale and already bathed in cold sweat. He needed to get him home to their father, now. With a wretched cry Elladan dropped to a crouch over Estel, he dropped the bow to ascertain exactly how bad the wound was.

Garuk grabbed his prize and binding him hand and foot, quickly tossed him onto the shoulders of the warg. He looked back. The beautiful tear filled eyes of the dark haired elf glared at him with an intensity that made him reel. The silver tears streaked the delicate face and his visible torment was a joy to behold. Garuk bowed low to the elf and turned away kicking at the flanks of his beast.   
Elladan lost control.

Notes

_Gurth__ an glamhoth _Death to the din-horde

_Daro_stop

_Muindor nin_ my brother

To

thank you for your kind words.

Grumpy I hope this pleased you.


	13. Without Hope

Without hope

Lord Elrond sat alone in the garden. It was quiet. All of Rivendell was emptied, save for the healers who had readied the healing rooms in the eastern section of the house. His heart was heavy. Six hours had passed, six very long hours. As an immortal, Elrond usually did not notice the passage of time. For him it was a constant, immeasurable and ever changing. Yet tonight it weighed heavily on him. As he gazed the moonlight shifted along the path, briefly illuminating the pattern of the coloured paving stones that lined the walkway. Elrond drifted into himself.

The galloping of a lone horse startled him, causing his heart to race. The rhythm of the hooves was desperate and loud. Elrond got to his feet; his pounding heart matched the drumming sound of the horse as it came ever closer. He moved almost as though in a trance. His feet retraced the path through the garden maze. As the horse's hoof beats resounded off the stones in the courtyard he began to run.

"_Adar!"_ Elladan cried. There was no response. "_Adaaaaaaaaaar__!"_ he screamed. He held Estel in his arms. Blood ran down his fingers and dripped onto the cold stone. Tears shone in his eyes as he coughed, dry sobs wracking his body.

Elrond came around the side of the house. He saw his son swaying on his feet, cradling an unconscious form.

"Elladan!" The cry was wrenched from the elf lord as he took in the scene before him. He took Estel from Elladan's trembling arms.

"It took him _ada! _It took him." Elladan said hoarsely his eyes were wild and wide with grief.

"_Hir nin." _Erestor laid his hand gently on Elrond's shoulder, indicating that the elf lord release his burden to the waiting healers. Elrond did, gently brushing his finger tips against Estel's pale skin. The elves hurried into the house.

"Save him father.' Elladan said following them with his eyes. He stepped back intending to mount his horse and pursue the orc. But Lord Elrond grabbed at his shoulder.

"Elladan, what has happened _ion nin?_ Where are you going? Where are the others?" Elrond frowned gripping his son's shoulders tightly, silently willing him to speak.

Elladan's eyes slowly refocused on his father's. His young face distressed.

"An orc took Legolas father. I could not stop him and I could not protect Estel. I shot him as he flew. I shot the orc. He will kill Legolas if I do not find them soon. I must go."

"_Hir nin!_" the call was urgent; it came from a healer who stood at the open front door. "We have need of your skills my lord, he grows worse."

Pain squeezed Elrond's heart. He hesitated for an instant between the needs of both his sons. He turned to Elladan and said. "Go _ion nin_. I will send help to you when the others return." Elrond hurried to the house as the beat of the horse's hooves retreated into the fading night.

000000000

Glorfindel stabbed downward with his sword, killing the orc that had dared attack him. He slid to his knees, pressing one arm against his side. He was sure some of his ribs were badly hurt, perhaps broken. They felt painful enough. He looked around. Orcs were mostly dead or dying. The elves had been merciless and had driven through the superior numbers of the fell beasts, mowing them down like wheat.

He saw Elrohir walking tiredly toward him. The young elf was drenched in black ichor, it dripped off his sword that he held awkwardly in his left hand. His wan face was patterned with bruises and cuts. His long hair had come undone and fell around him like a shroud. In truth Glorfindel mused he looked like a Vala of death.

Elrohir dropped to his knees next to the older elf; he thrust his sword into the earth and held onto the pommel for support. "How do you fare my lord?" he asked looking at him in concern. His face had a decidedly ashen look.

"I have been better." Glorfindel replied, shrugging off the question. "What of you?"

"I am well, merely sore."

"Then listen well for something has occurred that filled me with great unease." Glorfindel clutched at the young elf's shoulder as pain radiated from his side. "There was an orc, a rather large one that went after young Legolas and your brothers. He was mounted on a warg beast and he left in the midst of battle. When he left the orc defense and will to fight floundered. He must have been their leader such as they have. But I could not free myself to go after them, so you must go now. Ride out and meet them they may need you."

"My Lord?" Elrohir asked greatly puzzled.

"You must." Glorfindel was panting now. "They will need your help."

Elrohir exhaled sharply his mind racing.

"GO!" Lord Glorfindel commanded. "Too much time has already passed!"

Elrohir stumbled to his horse. The animals were being secured by those who could walk unaided. As he mounted he caught sight of Lord Veren. He was directing the care of the wounded.

"Lord Veren," called Elrohir. The elf of midnight black hair turned, his green eyes piercing in the hazy light of near dawn. "Lord Glorfindel is hurt, badly I think." He pointed to a hillock away to the right. The elf lord had fallen and was now lying still on the ground. Veren nodded and headed to his friend's side at a run.

OOOOOOOO

Legolas woke slowly, the back of his head hurt. He remembered flying through the air when _Sule_ stumbled. He groaned and tried to raise his hand to his pounding head. His hands refused to move. He opened his eyes a crack and closed them again. Where was he? He turned onto his side and as he did the scent of orc overwhelmed his senses. His eyes shot open an impossible thought took control. "No!" the word came unbidden from his lips. He struggled to rise but his bound limbs stopped him.

Garuk grabbed him by the hair, clamping a large hand over his mouth. He squeezed the elf's face hard.

"Not yet elf, not yet." He pulled a wicked looking club out of his fallen pack and hit him brutally. Legolas' eyes rolled back in his head as the wooden weapon connected solidly with his head.

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Elrohir pushed the mare hard. All tiredness was cast aside as concern for his brothers and Legolas gnawed at him. The early morning sun lit the short grass of the plains when Elrohir reigned in his mare. He could see plainly the signs of a struggle. There was flattened grass and blood. A lot of blood. He dismounted reading the signs. Someone had been dragged away.

The faint sound of hoof beats came to him. He stretched his bow, kneeling in the dew- wet grass. The rider came into view going fast. "Elladan!" he shouted in surprise.

Elladan whirled, startled into defense. His bow was held taunt and aimed at his brother's heart before he recognized who it was.

"Elrohir." He said the name in disbelief.

He ran toward him, seeing his brother's face set and tired. "What happened? Where are Estel and Legolas?"

"An orc ambushed them; he wounded Estel and took Legolas."

"And Estel?"

"He lives… for now." Elladan looked away sadly then inclined his head. "I will not let him have the prince Lir."

Elrohir took a deep breath realizing that Elladan meant Estel was dying. **"We** will not." He promised and mounted swiftly pushing his pain deep inside. They would not abandon Legolas to torment.

Elladan led, looking for telltale signs. There were drops of black along the ground leading away from the plains.

"He bleeds!" Elrohir exclaimed, thinking that Legolas had managed to wound the beast.

"I shot him as he fled, he may kill the prince for my folly." Elladan's face was a picture of despair.

Elrohir leaned across and took his brother's hand. "Not if we find him first."

OOOOOOOOOOO

Garuk growled cursing out loud as the sun burned brightly in the morning sky. He had dragged him self and the elf into the hollow trunk of a dying tree. The entrance was choked with growing shrubs and vine. He had been careful not to crush a single leaf or winding stem.

His back was on fire. That accursed elf had shot him in the back. The coward! The arrow head was still imbedded deep inside him though he had managed to break off the shaft. His every movement caused pain to flare through his torso. He had loosed the warg knowing that she would head for the mountains. Let the elves follow her, with her swift gait they could not hope to overtake her soon. While they followed her, he would make his way to the tunnel maze by another route. But he must be careful and clever.

Elves were formidable opponents when provoked. And my, hadn't he provoked them. With a dark chuckle he lifted a handful of silken hair that fell across Legolas' face. He put it to his nose and inhaled deeply, closing his eyes. It smelt of wood smoke and crushed grass. He draped himself along the length of the wood elf's body. The blood from his head wound had dried leaving a crust of brown at the side of his fair head.

Garuk stuck out a blackened tongue and licked the dried blood away. The wound was healing nicely. Legolas stirred under his ministrations, a soft sound escaping his lips. Garuk hurriedly reached into his pack and retrieved a vial of awrl. It was a mixture used to treat wounds. One had to be careful not to inhale its scent however, for its noxious fumes sent even the halest orc warrior into a deep delirious state of half sleep. Prolonged use could send one mad as nightmare became reality and everything seemed threatening.

He pulled out the cork and holding his breath held it briefly under the elf's nose. Legolas bucked, trying to evade the awful fumes even in sleep. Garuk held his head firmly though and soon the elf's body relaxed as unconsciousness took hold.

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The twins rode slowly through the tangled undergrowth under the tall trees. The drops of orc blood had stopped altogether and now they followed the deep imprints of misshapen paws left by the warg in the tangled grasses. Elrohir reached down and pulled a tuft of coarse fur from a thorn bush.

"They passed here."

Elladan leaned low on the horse's back. He narrowed his eyes at some broken branches. They looked trampled on. Obviously the orc's animal had stopped here. "Lir, stop." He called to his brother. Dismounting he bent low almost with his nose touching the ground. The earth reeked of the musky stench of warg, but more importantly there were drops of black splattered on the leaves. The orc had rested here. Elrohir approached quietly realizing that his brother had found something important.

"_Man cenich?"_ he asked.

"Orc blood, he stopped here look." There were deep footprints in the crushed grass. Inching forward Elladan suddenly reached out and pulled something snagged on a low shrub. He turned to Elrohir and opened his hand. Two strands of pale golden hair were cupped in his palm.

"Legolas," Elrohir breathed "he lives still."

"That is not certain," whispered Elladan, sighing softly.

"It is _muindor nin_. If he were dead the orc would have despoiled his body and left it for us to find."

"Yes, you are right." Said Elladan catching his bottom lip in his teeth. He took heart from his twin's words.

Together they prowled the area. They were in a dense part of the wood. The trees grew close together here and the undergrowth was choked with vines. There were dead and dying trees in one section of the wood. The vines there were thick and crawled up the trunks of several of them.

"He did not pass this way." Elrohir stated, for the foliage was untouched.

Elladan was standing in front of a particularly large dead tree. He looked over the area with a nagging sense of disquiet. Yet he had to agree with his brother. The area seemed untouched.

"Elladan come." Elrohir called, signaling him forward. There in the grass were deep animal prints leading away to the north. The twins mounted up and cantered away following the tracks of the warg.

Safe in the hollow of the large tree Garuk gave a sigh of relief.

OOOOOOOO

Elrond fought for Aragorn's life all that night and into the early morning. The arrow had gone through muscle and bone and had lodged itself deep into the tender area above the heart. Elrond had taken out splinters of wood and bone and had patiently sewn torn veins, muscle and finally skin together. Aragorn had lost so much blood that he had grown paler by the minute and his skin dry to the touch.

The elf had prepared a special solution and had fed it drop by precious drop back into his son's body. He had boiled a water pouch until it was clean of impurities and hung it from the post of the bed. He took a very long hollow wooden needle and pierced the large vein in Aragorn's arm, allowing the solution to run down into the vein in small drips. After hours of monitoring and two pouches later a faint flush of pink had graced his hollow cheeks. Elrond then made him as comfortable as possible. The wound was bandaged and would heal.

Around them wounded elves had returned from battle and were treated by other healers. Elrond blinked in slow surprise as he turned away from his son and found himself surrounded by a room full of sleeping and bandaged patients. He swayed and suddenly Erestor and Veren were there. They lowered him into a padded chair.

Erestor put a cup of refreshing liquid to his lips and he sipped it gratefully, leaning back in weariness. Veren quietly told him of all that transpired. Elrond listened nodding gravely. He then repeated the incident that had caused Aragorn to nearly lose his life. Veren's eyes glinted angrily.

"No doubt Elrohir has caught up to Elladan already, but with your leave I would join them. It would do their hearts well to know that young Estel will live. Also they would be less inclined to recklessness."

Elrond frowned knowing full well to what Veren alluded. The twins would kill in rage and endanger them selves needlessly when in blind anger and grief.

"Go _mellon__ nin_, bring my sons home." In this Elrond included the Mirkwood prince.

"I will." So saying Veren lightly covered his heart with one palm and bowing low, took his leave.

Elrond's gaze drifted back to Estel's pale profile.

"The Valar protect us all." He said.

Notes

_Mellon nin _my friend

_Muindor nin _my brother

_Man cenich_ What can you see.

_Ion nin _My son

_Hir nin_ My Lord

_Ada_daddy

_Adar_ father

To

Sylvia and Kitsune- My heartfelt thanks for both your words. I hope you enjoy this.


	14. Foul Deeds

Foul Deeds

He was lying on the forest floor limbs sprawled. He woke suddenly hearing a noise from somewhere nearby. He looked around as he pushed himself to his knees. This place felt familiar. He heard a chittering sound from behind and turned, notching an arrow in one continuous motion. The spider reared upward clacking its mandibles in hate. He fired, sending seven arrows in swift precision into its soft underbelly.

The animal shuddered letting out a horrifying unending screech of pain that made him cringe. His dropped his bow and covered his sensitive ears as the animal's wail reached an earsplitting pitch. He knew he screamed but he could not hear himself.

He watched with disbelieving eyes as the spider began to melt and change. Its legs shrank and rotted falling to the ground in stinking globs, its body twisted and bubbled growing smaller as pieces of its flesh fell off. Legolas felt his stomach heave as the urge to empty it caught hold. A sickening yellow green pus began to ooze from the decaying form and leak onto the ground. He fell to his knees as he lost his battle with his stomach. The keening of the spider made his head feel like it was on fire.

Then quite suddenly there was silence.

He got to his feet looking at the rotting mess in horror, for long arms with clawed hands were pushing their way through the mire. Thin legs stuck out from the congealing mass and abruptly a red eyed evil being with slavering jaws stood tall in the middle of the muck. As the thing held out its hand toward him Legolas' eyes flew open. He tried to scream but a huge hand was clamped over his mouth.

A dark face with large brown eyes peered down at him. The face's mouth began to talk. "Time to go my sweet." The dark person pulled him to his feet. It was nighttime and it was cold and there were huge shadowed trees all around them. Legolas shuddered remembering the horrible spider. He drew closer to the dark skinned man suddenly afraid. The orc stepped back in surprise. "What ails you elf?" he asked peering at his pale face suspiciously.

"Spider." Was all that Legolas could say.

"Spider eh? No spiders round here."

"Spider." Legolas repeated and edged closer to the orc.

It was then Garuk realized that the elf was actually trying to gain comfort from him. He awkwardly patted his arms. "No spiders here." He repeated "I will protect you." The elf stood quietly then but still looked around fearfully. Garuk took his bound hands attached a short rope to it and began to walk. The elf followed him obediently like a well trained pup. In the darkness Garuk smiled. He patted his vial. Well, well, he thought everything just got a whole lot better.

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As the sun rode past its zenith and started to sink in the sky Elladan called a halt and dismounted. They were in the stony knolls north of the great Ridge.

"This makes no sense," he said, "orcs do not travel by day, they cannot. We have come too far for naught."

Elrohir said nothing for a moment. He looked around at the pockmarked landscape. The wind blew from the south ruffling the few grasses that grew here and there among the bare boulders.

"Wargs do not travel alone in the wild Elladan, yet this one has done so. There must be someone leading it."

"Or maybe the one who led it wanted us to think so."

Elladan and Elrohir stared at each other as the thought grew in their minds.

"He would have needed shelter."

"Like the dead trees in the old wood."

Elladan snarled as he spun around and glared back the way they had come.

"When the sun sets he will be on the move again. Alas Elrohir what shall we do?'

"We cannot go back now; our steeds though noble and strong will not cover such a distance without rest."

Elladan knew that he was right yet his anger was not lessened by it. Elrohir placed a palm on his shoulder in an effort to calm his fiery tempered twin, but Elladan shrugged it off and turned to his brother in mild irritation. It was then that he saw the weariness that covered Elrohir like a blanket. He noticed for the first time the tiny cuts and bruises that stood out on his pale face. How could he have been so selfish? Elrohir had ridden straight from battle to find them and he had pushed him long and hard without rest, without food or water for more than a day. He must be exhausted. Even now Elladan could see that only sheer willpower kept him on his feet.

"Oh L'ir, forgive me." He held him in a tight embrace.

"I cannot breathe Lada." Came the muffled reply.

Elladan sprang back in alarm, only to see a mischievous grin on his twin's face.

"I am not dying, I just need some sleep."

"Then let us make camp. I must also find fresh water."

They left the horses to graze on what few grasses they could find. Elrohir curled up on the bare ground between two impressive rocks with his rolled cloak under his head. He fell asleep in an instant. Elladan took his empty water sack and went in search of the precious liquid. He climbed up on the highest rock and from there made his way past the large stones that littered the mountain side. Finally he heard the trickle of a hidden spring. He drank his fill and filled the sack to the top. He made his way back carefully to where his sleeping twin lay.

As he got near to the hidden camp he sensed all was not as it should be. He stood poised and tense behind the shoulder of a rock that lay on the edge of their camp and peeked out. A dark shadow was crouched over Elrohir's sleeping form.

"Ai!" He exclaimed and strung his bow; he silently moved forward notching an arrow. He pulled the bow taunt and let loose silent death. The arrow sped on swift wings seeking the heart of the dark form. Elladan hissed in disbelief as the figure jumped aside at the last minute. It was cloaked all in black and hooded. It turned and looked at him; he could feel the weight of its stare.

"Is that how you greet all your friends _tithen pen_ or just me?"

"Lord Veren! Oh Valar I thought you were… I am so sorry." Elladan said in a rush as he recognized the voice. He was filled with relief and shame at the same time.

"T'is no matter. Is he injured?" asked the green eyed elf flipping back his hood. Elrohir had not even twitched throughout the entire exchange; he was still fast asleep arms draped over his head.

"No just tired… and hungry."

"Then it is fortunate that I brought along extras." Veren knelt and opened a large bag that had lain unnoticed by Elladan until now. From it he produced wrapped slices of bread. Elladan felt his stomach growl in response. Veren's eyes twinkled as the young elf eagerly sat and began munching happily. As he ate the elven warrior told him all that had happened since he had seen him last.

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Aragorn struggled to reach Legolas as he fell. He heard himself shouting as though from a long way off. He saw the grinning leering face of the orc. He wanted to wipe that smile off his face forever. He drew his sword, but it seemed to take a life time. Then a great hand slammed into his chest. Time froze as he fell further and further. '**Legolas'** his mind screamed, he must save Legolas. He came back to himself with a weak shout. Instantly Elrond was at his side. Aragorn eyes were wide open and unfocused. Elrond grasped his hands. "I am here Estel. I am here _ion nin_."

Aragorn frowned, turning his head weakly. His unruly hair fell over his face as he struggled to rise, but he could not. His lips moved. Elrond leaned over him gently pushing his wayward hair out of his face. "Legolas." He said his voice barely above a whisper.

"_Iston__ ion nin, iston._"

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Garuk alternately walked and ran through the night so that by dawn the two of them had reached the rocky plains just south of the foothills of the mountains. Behind him the elf was panting in exhaustion. He had given him brief whiffs of awrl to keep him obedient and quiet, but it also made him tired, jumpy and sleepy. Nightmare visions swam before his waking eyes and just then the elf had no sense of day or night, truth or falsehood. He only knew that his feet must keep to the road, and he must stay close to his protector.

When they stopped Legolas dropped to his knees trembling, sweat covered his lithe body. His lovely golden hair was soaked with it. With a growl Garuk cut his bonds and swung him into his arms. He knew these mountain trails better than any one alive and soon they were hidden in one of the numerous caverns that dotted the landscape. From his pack he pulled a skin of fresh water. The elf drank greedily from it. Garuk smoothed his hair back from his wan face and fed him broken bits of old bread and dried flesh. As Legolas ate Garuk undid the twists of his braids and soon his unbound hair fell like a golden river around him. He removed his elven cloak by undoing the clasp at his neck. Legolas stared at him with large docile eyes as he did these things.

"Do you know me elf?" he asked with a voice like tumbling gravel.

Legolas shook his head.

"I am called Garuk. You are Gildak." On a whim Garuk decided to give the elf a name. It meant gold one in his tongue. Legolas frowned as he tried to remember. Somehow it sounded all wrong.

"Yesss." The orc insisted seeing Legolas shake his head. He grabbed his long slender hands and squeezed them hard grating the bones together. Legolas let out a whimper of pain.

"Listen to me Gildak. They are hunting us. They wish to kill us both."

Panic surged through the elf as the image of his nightmare swam before his mind's eye.

"Th …th… the evil one." He whispered in fear.

Garuk nodded solemnly," Yes," he agreed "the evil ones. They want to turn you into one of them." He stopped and lifted a length of the elf's hair. "They hate your golden hair and your grace and your light. They will turn you into a mindless slave to do their bidding."

Legolas' eyes filled with crystal tears and Garuk watched heartlessly as they spilled down his pale, lean cheeks. The elf bowed his head soft sobs escaping his lips. Garuk tilted his face back up with a coarse finger. "Look at me elf." He commanded sternly. "What do you see?"

Legolas saw a dark twisted creature. Garuk's skin was of the darkest grey, his face was scarred with claw marks. Across his nose and one pointed ear was mutilated. His hair was long, dirty, black, thick and matted. It fell like heavy ropes about him. His lips were black and his teeth were yellowed, pointed fangs. The worse were his eyes. They were like muddy brown pools, stagnant and fathomless.

"I was once like you Gildak."

"No!" Legolas' denial was quick. He pulled away from the orc.

"Yessssssssss." Hissed Garuk crawling after him. "I was once as beautiful as you are, lovely as the morning star…until they did this to me."

"No." Legolas was less sure as he stared up at the creature in front of him.

"This is what you will become." He took one of the elf's hands and held it against his face. "This is what they will do to you."

Legolas felt the roughened scaly skin under his palm and silver tears once again trickled down his face. Garuk then pulled him to his chest in a rough embrace.

"Do not fret my little Gildak, I will protect you. I will not let them take you to the evil one." He rocked the elf to soothe him, laughter bubbling in his throat. Soon his body shook as he desperately tried to control the cruel mirth within him.

Soon the elf's tears were spent and he pulled away a little from his protector.

"What will we do Garuk?' his melodic voice uttered the orc's name like a caress. Garuk closed his eyes for a brief moment as he allowed himself a thrill of pleasure.

"I cannot travel by day, they have seen to that, but the minions of the evil one can. We will wait till night and make for the tunnels under the mountains. Only there will we be safe."

Garuk held the elf until he fell asleep. It was then that he held the vial under his nose. He made sure Legolas inhaled deeply of the giddy fumes before he put it away.

He tucked the elven cloak under his golden head and lay on his side next to the elf. Soon enough he could see the madness take hold. He waited until Legolas was twitching and whimpering before he began to speak. He told him of giant spiders and evil elves with long dark hair and deadly swords. He whispered tales of unnatural things and whips made of fire. He spoke of naked bodies, thrusting organs and unbearable pain, As he spoke his words formed the substance of the elf's awful dreams. Soon Legolas was rigid with terror.

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Only a few hours passed before Elrohir awoke. Refreshed and sated the three rode out. They rode for the remainder of the night only halting when they entered the wood. It was Veren who picked up the orc's trial. Even in the starlit night it was easy to follow. Elladan noticed the lighter scuff marks left by Legolas' booted feet. "He is pushing him hard. He can hardly keep to his feet." He said, looking up at his brother and Veren.

"Then let us make haste." Said Veren.

It was late evening when the three reached the rocky plains that lay before the foothills of the Misty Mountains. They has eaten on the move and refreshed themselves in the manner of elves. Now they dismounted for the tracks had disappeared among the bare rock.

"These slopes are riddled with caverns and dark holes. Be on your guard. He will be on the move as sun sets." Veren warned them. He carried his longbow in one hand and held an arrow ready in the next. Elrohir did the same. Elladan drew his sword, for he was a much better swordsman than archer. Veren ran lightly atop the rocks leaping from boulder to boulder. He came to rest on a humped dome shaped rock. He tapped the end of his bow on the stone feeling it vibrate with a hollow ring. He was most likely on top of a network of caves. It was intuition as much as experience that made him stop there. The twins were perched similarly within sight of him. Elrohir was to his left, Elladan to his right. From their watches they would see any movement for leagues.

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Garuk took the razor sharp dagger and cut from ribcage to navel. The skin and muscle parted like so much parchment and life giving blood poured out. He stuck his hand into the wound dismayed briefly by the slick feel of it. His claws touched wood and he pulled the arrow head with a sucking noise from deep within him. With shaking hands he threw it from him and it rebounded off the wall. He dropped three precious drops of awrl into the wound and then stitched it together with gut thread and bone. He drew a long shaky breath.

Orcs suffered no disease or sickness, in fact nothing short of beheading could kill most. But they did feel. Hunger, thirst, pain and rage were common. Just then Garuk felt all of these. He glanced at the unconscious elf and wished he could take some of the pain he felt out on him, but he could not. His pursuers were near. He had heard them scrabbling around on the rocks above. He had to use all his stealth to outwit them tonight.

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Elrohir started briefly when he heard a small sound from somewhere below him. At once he pressed his ear to the rocks but the sound did not occur again, nevertheless it made him feel uneasy. He started walking around looking for openings in the rock face. He found one. It was cleverly hidden among several boulders. To enter the cavern he would have to descend into a dark gaping hole. He shuddered. He hated caves. Leaving an arrow to mark the entrance he made his way to where his twin kept watch. He told him of his find.

"And the noise was not repeated?" asked Elladan. Elrohir shook his head.

"Then leave it, there are not enough of us to launch a search underground, we will have to wait until daylight."

Veren joined them and after being apprised of the situation agreed with Elladan.

The rest of the night passed slowly. The only movement were occasional short legged scaly night crawlers that meandered through the rocks slowly flicking their forked tongues out tasting the air. Elladan grimaced as one of the creatures touched his bare skin with a cold tongue, so still had he been. He shooed the little creature away with a flick of his fingers. It scurried off astonished as the 'rock' came to life.

Dawn broke and with it came Elrohir to his side.

"What's for morning meal?" he enquired stretching like a great cat. Elladan snorted at the single mindedness of his brother sometimes.

The three elves ate atop the rocks. Veren's eyes continuously scanned the expanse of the rocky plain. "Show us this cavern of yours." He said to Elrohir who was busy licking his sticky fingers. But he did not respond until nudged by Elladan. "Eh?" He spluttered.

"The cave L'ir where is it?" Elladan asked exasperated.

"Oh, I'll show you." Elrohir leapt up and began retracing his steps. As the other two rose to follow him Veren asked a question he had been wanting to for years. "Tell me Elladan, why do you and Elrohir call each other such names?" for it was unheard of in elven custom to shorten ones given name. Elladan laughed. "It is because of Estel. When he was a very little boy he called us by these names for he could not yet speak properly. I guess we just got used to them."

"Ah! I see." Said Veren with a smile.

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Elladan dropped into the hole first. He carried a lighted torch made from bundles of dried grasses tied onto a dried stick. He held it aloft and walked a short way into the cave entrance. It was empty. He whistled for the others. They dropped silently beside him. The cavern opened out into a good sized cave, big enough for four horses standing side by side. They saw nothing of interest until Elrohir, who had gone a little ahead stumbled over something on the ground. He kicked his feet and the thing flew off to land in the middle of the cavern floor. Veren knelt to inspect it. It was a cloak. Elladan brought the light closer. "An elven cloak." He and Veren said together.

Elrohir picked up something off the ground and brought it to them wordlessly. Legolas' brooch lay in his palm. "They **were** here. If only…" he began.

"No Elrohir, do not say it. It would have put him in mortal danger had we come ill prepared last night. Let us follow them. It we can catch up to them while day lasts it will be to our advantage."

They had not gone far when Elladan stopped. He knelt and touched something on the ground.

"Orc blood." He said sniffing the vile substance. A stained arrow head was his next find. "So he suffers still." Elladan said with a grim smile.

"Let us hurry." said Elrohir. He took lead in the tunnel that twisted and turned at almost every other step.

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He was running in the gloomy forest. His arm hurt from the spider's bite. His back burned from the fire of the whip lashes. How he had escaped he did not know but he knew he could not stop running. They had done things to him, terrible things. Then the dark elves had taunted him, beating him with sticks, until the evil one appeared. It had bitten him, its dripping fangs pumping poison deep inside him. Legolas had screamed as pain lanced through his body. Now they hunted him.

He ran alone and naked through a forest of dark leering trees. Their wooden faces laughed down at him as their branches slapped his burning skin. He tripped on one of their great roots and down he fell. Immediately sharp clawed hands sank into his back. Legolas screamed, writhing on the ends of the curved claws as he was lifted into the air. The creature turned him around and slammed his body to the earth. His breath whooshed out of his lungs. A long tongue left a trail of hot liquid on his lips. The tongue pushed its way inside his mouth. He tried to scream but it was swallowed by that cavernous mouth. He was suffocating.

He felt hands everywhere, in his hair, on his legs, his abdomen, his buttocks, his maleness. The hands were digging into his skin. They pushed his legs apart. A primal sound of hopelessness vibrated in his throat as pain ripped through his lower body. Arching against the intrusion he screamed, his cry echoed through a suddenly silent forest.

He was again alone and in pain. He was covered in fallen leaves of yellow and red. He could hear soft steps of someone approaching. He rolled onto his stomach to face this new menace.

A man was walking slowly toward him a smile on his face. His hair was long and brown and fell in waves about his shoulders. His face was chiselled and handsome. Clothed all in black he walked strong and proudly toward the fallen elf. Legolas slowly pushed himself to his elbows. He momentarily forgot his pain. He knew this man. The man with a gentle smile held out his hand. "Come Legolas. It is time to go home." Legolas reached for him, but as he did the ground heaved and he was thrown back. With a mighty roar the earth split asunder. A crack appeared in the ground between the man and himself. The earth groaned and grated and the crack widened into a chasm.

"No!" shouted Legolas scrambling toward the edge, but the chasm grew until he could no longer see the man. He clutched at his hair in despair and began to scream once more.

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Aragorn jack knifed awake before anyone could stop him. "Legolas!"

"Estel, you are safe. You are home." Reassured Elrond holding onto his shaking son.

"No father. I see him, he needs me. I must go to him."

"That is out of the question Estel. You have not yet begun to heal."

"You do not understand _ada_. If I do not go to him he will die."

"If you do , **you** will die."

Aragorn slumped back at his father's harsh words, but the determination in his steely grey green eyes did not falter. Elrond knew that look.

"Aragorn, listen to me. Your brothers and Lord Veren our most skilled tracker are out there looking for him as we speak. They will find him and bring him home.

"No." said Aragorn weakly as his burst of energy quickly burned low. "They will not find him in time _ada_." Tears slipped down his lean cheeks as frustration at his weakness overwhelmed him. Elrond leaned over and kissed his forehead as his son's eyes closed in sleep despite his protests.

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Garuk carefully lay Legolas on the floor of the tunnel as he finally stopped. It had been so easy to evade the elves in the darkness. He had lobbed a pebble to distract the elf that sat so close to their escape route. As expected the elf had gone to investigate and they had slipped past him unnoticed in the darkness. From there it had been a breathless run through the maze of boulders and up the slope to the tunnel mouth.

True, the black haired elf had almost spied them as they ran but again the dark gods had taken care of their own, He had been distracted by the other two. Garuk did a little jig of glee and swooped down to kiss the elf's closed eyes. It was only then that he frowned. The elf. As soon as the elf had awakened last night Garuk had put him back to sleep with the awrl. Though it had been necessary, he wondered if he had used to much too soon. The elf was twitching continuously and his breathing was shallow and rapid. Garuk hoped he would wake soon.

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Elrohir burst out of the tunnel and found himself back in the same cavern they had started out in.

"A trick!" Elrohir shouted, whipping around in dismay. Veren began to examine the walls not believing that the orc had simply disappeared. Elladan dropped to the floor thoroughly disheartened.

"Elladan, Elrohir, I have found it." Called Veren. He stood next to a hidden crack in the cave wall, fresh air blew in through the space.

The three elves slipped into the dark crevice. Their makeshift torch had long burnt out but the walls of the tunnels were close together, it was impossible to go astray. Soon Veren emerged into the open air. As the twins came out Elrohir said. "This is not far from where I kept watch last night." Indeed the exit was almost within touching distance.

"Orc blood." Said Elladan spying a miniscule drop pf black on the powdered earth. They followed the almost invisible trail. It led them on a tortuous journey squeezing past rocks scrambling under pitted boulders and crawling through dark holes. At the end of it they emerged at the base of a gaping maw. The cave entrance led into the belly of the Misty Mountains.

"Valar." Whispered Elladan "Another cave."

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When Legolas came out of his awrl induced sleep Garuk knew he had used the mixture once too often. The elf was a shaking ball of misery and sweat. He cowered on the cave floor with eyes shut and knees hugged tightly to his chest. He rocked back and forth incessantly, causing his unbound hair to shimmer like a waterfall.

Garuk called him by name over and over, but the elf only whispered to himself in his own language, fighting demons the orc could not see. Growing irritated Garuk grabbed his arms to shake him, but pulled back with a surprised hiss at the heat radiating off the elf's skin. He cupped his face in both hands and fever bright blue eyes opened, staring into a world gone awry.

"_Seas, seas, berio nin."_ Whispered Legolas his pink mouth releasing hot breath in the orc's face. Garuk remained motionless on his haunches for a moment. Then he reached forward with long deformed fingers and pulled the elf to his knees. He unbuttoned his stained green tunic one button at a time. He pulled it off and reached for the smooth silken undershirt. He drew that slowly over the elf's head and Legolas swayed forward compliantly. His pale skin was glowing with heat and Garuk ran his palm down his naked back entangling his coarse fingers in the long silken tresses. The elf's skin was like a newborn babe.

He unlaced his soft leather boots and let them fall where they would. He hooked his fingers into the waist of the elf leggings and felt him shudder. He pulled the elf into his arms and stared down at his lithe naked fevered body. His eyes were like those of a predator about to devour his prey. He slowly brushed the tip of one finger along the elf's trembling lips. "I will not let you die Gildak. I will not let you die."

Notes

_Seas, seas, berio nin _**Please please help me.**

_Iston__ ion nin, iston _**I know my son I know**

_tithen__ pen _**young one**

To:

Lady Janelly thanks a bunch

Eyes like silk. Hope you liked this one.


	15. The pool

The Pool

The cave was cluttered with the detritus of orc. It was obvious that this had been their stronghold not too long ago. Rusted spits and dented pots littered the corners of the cave. Pitted iron spikes and rusty nicked blades spilled out in ragged heaps here and there on the ground. Elrohir kicked a battered cup out of his way as the three elves went deeper into the cavern. Elladan looked up at the low ceiling that hung over them. It felt ominous, the entire place felt ominous. It reeked with the musty stench of wet fur, rotted food and body wastes. They were such filthy creatures. It made him burn to think of the prince of Mirkwood in the hands of such a being.

They had reached a sort of platform now, for the cave floor had risen slowly but steadily as they walked. Veren stopped looking forward as the main passage way branched into two tunnels.

"Elladan and Elrohir you take the left. I'll go right."

"We should not divide our forces Lord Veren."

"Ordinarily I would agree with you Elrohir, but my heart tells me that time grows short for young Legolas. This way if one of the tunnels is blocked we still have a chance of finding him without wasting time backtracking."

"Valar watch over you." Elladan touched his fingers to his forehead briefly followed by Elrohir. Veren returned the farewell with a nod, turned and disappeared into the dark tunnel. The twins looked at each other for a moment and then squaring their shoulders turned to follow their own path.

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Unlike most elves, Veren did not find the darkness of caves unpleasant. Before deciding to stay on at Rivendell he had lived a life free of loyalties to any one House. He had mingled freely with dwarves and men. He had even been to the lands of the little Halflings. His father and brothers had fought at the Last Alliance and though he had been there to witness the evil of Sauron unleashed, he had been too young to fight. One by one they had died and Veren's heart had glowed with anger and then paled with grief. When his brother, the last of their house had been brought into the camp dying, Veren had felt his heart break. As the last breath left Uule's body, Veren, little more than an elfling had fled.

He had lost himself in the mountain ranges living off berries, nuts and whatever game he could catch. Those long years had honed him into a skilled tracker and a deadly killer. He would have lived out the endless millennia that way if it had not been for the twins.

He had come across them while hunting deer. They had been caught like game themselves by slavering orcs with hunting wargs. One of them, he never remembered which, was lying too still on the earth a black orc arrow protruding from his chest. The other armed with a long sword stood hunched defensively over the fallen body. As Veren looked he could see blood streaming down the lone elf's shaking arms.

He felt his blood boil. If there was one thing he hated in the world it was these evil creatures. With a cry like a demented wolf he had descended upon the orcs like black death. Caught unawares the orc horde had tried to subdue him by superior force, but Veren had spent three thousand years perfecting the art of killing orcs. Despatching the wargs first with his double swords he began decapitating the orcs by the bushel. The orcs, cowards by nature unless sure of success, fled in the face of this crazed elf who fought with dreadful abandon like a dark god.

He had carried the badly wounded twins to Rivendell, one in his arms and one tied to his back for that was the only word the one still standing said before he passed out. He would never forget that nightmare journey. It had taken five days of walking with no food, no water and no rest. When he had at last staggered into the courtyard, he remembered the shocked silence that lasted all of one heartbeat before a wave of noise hit him like a hammer. He remembered the venerable Lord Elrond rushing forward the look on his face terrible to see. Disbelief, deep anguish and incredible joy. Then Veren had quietly passed out.

From the moment he had awoken Elrond had been there caring for him like one of his own. Having missed the touch and sight of his own kind for so long Veren had decided to stay.

Now he walked like a ghost down the tunnel that had flattened out and started to descend. He could see along the pathway, evidence that this tunnel had been a main thoroughfare of the orcs. He hoped it would lead him to the young elf Legolas and the foul creature that kept him prisoner.

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Garuk held the sweat slicked muttering elf in his arms like a babe. The elf's golden head lolled against the orc's shoulders, while his long legs and arms dangled forlornly in mid air as the orc walked. He was making his way down from the high passage to the deep pool that lay more or less in the middle of the tunnel maze. He reasoned that the only way to save the elf was to break the raging fever. He believed that the pool's icy waters would do the trick.

In truth he was disgusted with himself. Why, why save this miserable elf's life? He should have killed him years ago, left him to rot in the blasted cage, begging for death. But even as he thought it he knew he could never do so. He looked down at the beautiful face. Even now twisted in pain and ravaged by torment the elf was beautiful. Hadn't he been trained to kill such things? All living things, all things of light. Was that not his purpose in life to kill?

Garuk stopped as his inner turmoil became unbearable.

"Why don't I kill you? He said aloud. He squeezed down on the elf's arm and leg chuckling as he squirmed and moaned in pain. He started walking again. Yes, he would drop the confounded elf into the freezing waters of the crystal pool, let him drown. The cold stone walls echoed with his raucous laughter.

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"Valar." Groaned Elrohir in disbelief. Moments before they had emerged from the tunnel into a narrow space, only to be greeted with the sight of two dark openings.

"Which way shall we go?" enquired Elladan not liking the look of either tunnel.

"You left me right."

"What! Surely you jest?"

"Lada, you heard what Veren said, we must be quick. The only way is if we search each passage at the same time.

"NO." Elladan shook his head vehemently.

"Surely you are not afraid brother." Elrohir said with a grin.

"Aren't you?" countered Elladan.

"Terrified, but it must be done."

Elladan held his brother's shoulder briefly a worried frown on his face.

"Don't worry, if I get into trouble I shall scream, very loudly."

Both elves grinned and briefly clasped hands. Then they disappeared into the two tunnels.

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She ambled along slowly, footsore and hungry from her long trek into the mountains. At first she had exulted in her freedom, but as the days passed she found she missed the company of her masters. Besides, she reasoned food was much easier found with her masters than alone. Hunting was tiresome and fresh meat hard to come by.

She blinked rapidly as she entered the cave. Her small eyes took some time to adjust to the gloom. She nosed about tossing about scraps of cloth and old bones. Where were her masters? The cave seemed cold, almost unfriendly. Surely one of them must be near. She searched sniffing the ground, hoping to catch their scent.

Suddenly she stopped, the hackles on her neck rising with sudden fear. She smelt glowing beast, the ones who threw hurting sticks at her all the time. She snarled scraping the rocks with her sharp claws. Yes definitely the scent of glowing beasts. With her nose to the ground she followed the scent, disappearing into the long dark tunnel.

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Veren knew he was nearing journey's end. As he walked the air had grown cooler and the sides of the tunnel moist with droplets of water. His black clothing was soaked and his hair clung to his skull, so high was the humidity in the tunnel. He slowed his pace as the tunnel bent sharply to the left.

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Elladan gave a loud umpf as he ran smack into a stone wall. Holding onto his nose he reached up with one hand feeling along the solid granite. This tunnel went no further. He sighed wearily. Now he would have to retrace his steps and join up with Elrohir. He let go of his sore nose and holding onto the wall closest to him began the long walk back to the tunnel entrance.

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Elrohir's pace quickened as faint light penetrated the darkness. The path had risen steeply and he had been hard pressed to keep to his feet as unseen rocks littered the tunnel floor. Now there was hope that soon he would emerge into an area a little less 'close'. As the light grew brighter he ran all the way to the end.

"Oh no!" he cried stopping abruptly. He had reached the end of the tunnel, but he could not pass. The mouth of the opening was no bigger than an elf's head. There was no way he could fit through there. Even so he knelt and stuck his head through the hole and gasped in delight. He was looking down upon a huge cavern lit by the sun's rays. There must be a crack somewhere high up in the cave's ceiling. As he stared the sunlight caught on the black waters of a large pool in the middle of the cave floor. He realised he must be at least the height of a mumakil or two above the cavern floor. He would have to go back. He wondered if Elladan had had better luck.

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Legolas cried out as the spider like man bit down hard on his arm once again. He felt the poison race through his blood adding heat to his already hot body.

"Please, please, let me go." He begged.

"Please, I would go home, I would see the trees again, please release me." He bowed low over his hurting arm until his forehead touched the cool earth. He cried unashamedly, his pride lost, his dignity but a memory. He no longer knew himself. All he knew was pain and torment and the cruel laughter of the evil creature that held him prisoner.

Two bony fingers under his chin tipped his head up angrily and he was forced to stare into glowing red eyes.

"I will never let you go." The thing said slowly. "You are mine forever and every single day that passes will be worse than the last. I will see you beat your breast in sorrow and claw your eyes in madness and still I will not let release you, for your tears are my life blood and your screams my joy." So saying, he thrust Legolas from him and the elf fell as though through the earth and into the sky and in his ears beat the sound of his own heart, then utter silence.

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The orc stood at the water's edge staring down into its inky depths. The elf had gone still in his arms moments ago and he had lost all thought for a long moment. There was still a slight rise and fall of the elf's chest indicating that he lived, yet Garuk hesitated. What should he do? Should he leave the elf to die or save his life… With a scream of rage he threw Legolas from him into the still waters of the pool. Let him drown!

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Veren stepped out of the tunnel and wondered at the splendid magnificence of the place. The tunnel spilled out into a large airy cavern that was lit by streaky beams of sun. Huge stone formations glittered in the light. A sudden sound of rage behind him caused him to whirl immediately dropping to a defensive crouch.

What he saw made his heart stop. As he looked he saw Legolas thrown by the orc, arc in the air briefly then plummet into a pool of black water. The surface of the water rippled and then stilled. Legolas did not rise to the surface.

"Aiiiiii!" Veren's enraged cry startled Garuk who turned from the pool's edge with a snarl. He saw an tall lissom elf clothed all in black with two silver swords drawn. The elf's hair was midnight black and his green eyes glittered with an intense hate.

"_Dhagathon__ le assen!_" the elf hissed between clenched teeth as he ran at Garuk, death written in his eyes.

The orc, feeling fear clutch at his heart, backed away pulling at his short dagger in defence. Accursed elves! He thought.

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Elrohir had begun the think that the tunnel had doubled in length just to spite him when he heard a sound from ahead that sent chills up his spine. A low growl emanated in the darkness and a soft menacing shuffling and snorting came from up ahead. If he had been uncertain, the overpowering stink of warg hit him like an anvil. He stopped, his mouth gone dry with fear. There was no where to hide and no where to rum. The tunnel was too narrow to manoeuvre his sword and arrows would be of little help, for if he did not kill the beast with the first shot, it would be over.

Time had just run out. The darkness suddenly got a lot heavier as the beast caught up with her prey. Her eyes glinted wickedly as she spied the glowing creature standing still as stone in the middle of the passage way. Elrohir slowly drew his sword and as he did he felt rather than saw the warg tense just before she leapt. With the grace and speed born of years of training, he went down on one knee the other leg splayed. He thrust his sword double handed above his head as the beast descended upon him like a cloak of darkness.

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Legolas fell through air and silence and then into freezing cold. The cold robbed him of feeling and stopped him from drawing breath. She wrapped around his naked form like an old lover and welcomed him into her arms. Sleep, she seemed to say, sleep and I will keep you safe. Sleep and all the troubles of the world will disappear and you will be at peace forever. She spoke words of love to him and words of solace and Legolas gave into her words and opened his arms to embrace her.

But as his hands reached for hers there came a voice, familiar and yet not, in this womb of coldness.

"Open your eyes, open your eyes Legolas."

Legolas shook his head. He wanted it to be over.

"Open your eyes and see me Greenleaf!" commanded the voice.

Legolas' eyes sprang open, his eyes searching. There, just there, was the man. He was clothed all in white and his serene face looked at him with true love.

"Do not give in to darkness my friend come back to the light that holds us all."

"I cannot move." Legolas stuttered defeated by the icy waters.

"Take my hand."

Legolas struggled to get his numb limbs to obey his thought. Slowly, ever so slowly his hand crept out. The man's large hand suddenly enveloped his narrow ones and a feeling of warmth spread from their touch to encase his body.

"Aragorn." Legolas cried as for a brief time his mind was his own.

"Swim _mellon__ nin, _head for the surface. Be quick." Aragorn urged.

In the depths of the pool Legolas came back to life and kicked feebly for the surface.

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Aragorn lay still as the dead in the healing hall of Imladris, but on his brow shone the sweat of his labour as his flame reached out over many leagues and joined with that of his friend. He would not let him die, he could not, even if it meant his own life was forfeit. Yet he did not fight alone. His elven father realizing what his son had done, joined the power of his own life force to Aragorn's and together they struggled to pull Legolas back from the brink of death. But as the sands trickled through the hour glass the fight grew harder as the flame of the Greenleaf burned low.

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The fearsome roar of a warg and a piercing scream rang through the cavern without warning. Veren pulled back from his attack his brilliant green eyes startled. The orc breathed heavily and licked his lips, glad for the respite. The elf had almost slain him twice. He held an old curved blade that he had swept up from the ground in panic in his hand. His arms and chest bore deep gashes, evidence of their wild battle.

"Seems to me like your friends are in trouble." Garuk panted gesturing back to the tunnel mouth. Veren did not answer, but the silence that had followed the scream caused his heart to ache. One of the twins might be dead.

"Strange," he continued, "that you track me all this way and yet leave your friend to drown."

By the elf's sudden indrawn breath, Garuk knew he had won a reprieve. "Thought he was dead did ye?" he chuckled. "Well he might be by now, though ye never know he is a strong one."

Veren turned distraught to look at the surface of the pool. There was no sign of the young elf. Garuk edged back as the black haired elf turned away from him. He quickly slipped into a side passage and ran, losing himself in the tunnel maze as his wounds bled copiously.

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Aragorn and Lord Elrond felt a flash of white hit them like a physical force as their connection to Legolas was suddenly severed. Aragorn's eyes shot open.

"NO! NO!" he cried, his eyes filling with tears. He pushed his father's hands away and struggled to rise from the bed. Elrond grasped his son's flailing arms and forcefully held Estel to his chest. He was afraid that he would tear open the wound that had just begun to heal.

Aragorn began to scream and buck against his father's imprisoning embrace.

"Erestor, help me." Elrond called in panic. Injured or not Aragorn was strong and he almost slipped out of the elf lord's grasp as he lunged forward suddenly.

The older elf quickly joined Elrond and together they held the young human down on the bed.

Aragorn screamed and writhed, slamming his head against the bed as he tried to free himself. Soon white foam flecked his lips and he began to choke on his spittle. Elrond raised his upper body, slid behind him and held him fast murmuring soothing words. Unheeding Aragorn tossed his head wildly, his eyes rolling back in his head. He slammed his head against Elrond's chest and tried to pull away from him repeatedly.

"Nn…nn…nn…" were the only sounds he made.

Elrond rocked him as Erestor held onto his kicking legs.

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For the third time Veren dove into the icy waters of the pool. He could see nothing but he swam around with arms outstretched until he could hold his breath no longer. He kicked for the surface and as he did, something cold bumped into his hands. He reached out and his fingers made contact with chilled flesh. He grabbed something that felt like an arm and swam with all speed straight up.

He broke the surface and took a mighty gulp of air. A golden head bobbed up next to him. He held Legolas around the waist and swam to shore. The elf's body was stiff and cold. Veren felt for a heartbeat with numb fingers and felt none. Legolas lips had gone white and his body was a strange shade of lavender. Praying to all the Valar to grant him life, Veren turned the soaking elf onto his stomach ad began pushing down on his back. He had seen humans do this to a near drowned child and the child had lived.

Water dripped into his eyes from his wet hair and he dashed it away angrily. The young elf was not responding. He remembered the deaths of his father and brothers and the way they had lain like so much cold meat on their death pallets. In grief he struck Legolas hard on the back.

"Breathe _pen neth_, breathe!' He shouted.

Legolas twitched and crystal clear water came rushing out of his mouth and nose. He coughed once then twice. Veren said a prayer of thankfulness to Eru and pushed down on his back again. Legolas continued to cough as water trickled out of him.

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Elrohir felt the weight of the warg impale itself on his sword, at the same time its claws buried into his back. He could not help the shriek of pain he gave. The weight of the warg slammed into him and crushed him to the ground. His head hit rock and he drifted in a world of grey shadow.

It was so that Elladan found him. He heaved the carcass off his brother's body with a strength born of desperation.

"Elrohir, Elrohir!" he patted his twin's face and felt along his body, fingers probing for injuries. Elrohir did not respond, but he was breathing. He gathered him gently in his arms and it was then he felt the wetness of blood. Rising he staggered out of the tunnel back into the main cavern. In the light of late evening he could see six long gashes along his twins back. There was also a nasty cut on the back of his head.

Elladan needed help. He needed water to clean the wounds. He debated going back to their camp but quickly discarded the idea. It would take too long. He had to find Lord Veren. The elder elf would be able to treat him since he always carried small pouches of medicinal mixtures with him. He lifted Elrohir gently off the floor and made his way into the long dark tunnel that Veren had taken.

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Veren realised very quickly that something was not right with Legolas. The elf's eyes were open but unseeing and the black circles in his eyes were too large. He had wrapped him up in his cloak, but the young prince still shook like an old tree in winter winds. He moved him away from the cold of the pool and placing him tenderly on the ground, scavenged for debris with which he could build a fire.

Elladan stumbled from the tunnel mouth into the cavern to see Lord Veren hunched over a golden haired form. There was a fire blazing.

"My Lord." He called

Immediately Veren was there. "Bring him over to the fire."

Veren removed the torn tunic and inner shirt and sent Elladan to fetch water from the pool to clean the wounds. Elrohir made little sounds of protest as Veren cleaned the deep slashes of dirt and blood. Elladan watched over Legolas as Veren tended to his brother. "What ails him my Lord?" he asked.

"I do not know, but he is near frozen, keep him warm."

Elladn touched his friend's forehead and was surprised to feel heat emanating from chilled skin.

"He feels warm."

Veren was rubbing some warmed paste into Elrohir's back. He stopped and using his wrist touched the side of Legolas' face. Elladan was right Legolas felt fevered. Veren was puzzled because Legolas was still shaking and his teeth chattered slightly.

"Unwrap him Elladan and let him lie on the cloak."

Legolas made piteous mewling noises as Elladan tried to remove the cloak from around his body. He made feeble attempts to pull the soft cloth back around himself.

Veren finished securing Elrohir's bandages and moved to the young elf's side. "Elrohir will be okay, he has a hard head." He assured Elladan with a smile. He checked the prince's skin again. It was burning hot.

"Fetch water Elladan, we must keep him cool. I fear that orc has had a hand in this mischief. Now I understand why he dropped him into the pool. He must have poisoned him with herb."

Elladan dragged a large dented pot to the pool, filled it and dragged it back to the fire. He and Veren took turns bathing Legolas with the cold water. The trembling elf curled into a tight ball and mewled horribly.

"He is suffering!" Exclaimed Elladan his hands shaking as he unwillingly squeezed out more water onto his friend's body.

"Elladan, if his fever gets too much for his body to bear he **will** die, we must do this." Veren held Elladan's troubled gaze with his piercing green eyes, until the younger elf nodded miserably. Sometime during the night Elladan fell into and exhausted sleep. Veren kept watch over them all, alternately feeding the fire when it burned low and keeping an eye out for the orc in case he returned. He was deeply concerned by Legolas' raging fever. It had not abated at all for all their effort.

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Aragorn lay quietly against his father, his grief spent. Elrond was holding him, stroking his hair and speaking soft words if comfort to him. His chest was soaked with the young man's tears. Aragorn's eyes were closed and his chest rose and fell in a regular rhythm, but his hands were twisted in the folds of Elrond's flowing tunic, he held onto his elven father as though he were a strong branch in the midst of a storm.

Elrond let his cheek rest on the top of his son's head. He feared that he would not survive the death of the Mirkwood prince. "Stay with me Estel, please stay with me."

It was hours after that Aragorn finally drifted into a fitful sleep. Elrond quietly slid out from behind him and gently lay him on the bed. He lifted his white cotton shirt and pried off the bandage covering the arrow wound. The sewing had held for the most part, but around the edges were a little strained, pale pink blood seeped out. Elrond gave a sigh of relief. Glorfindel, who was still swathed in bandages across his ribcage came over to the bed.

"He will recover Elrond." He placed his hand on his friend's arm.

"Will he? Their bond is so strong…" Elrond tiredly sank to the bed staring sadly at Estel.

Notes

_Dhagathon__ le assen _I will kill you for this

To silvertoekee and the unnamed one. My heartfelt thanks for your encouraging reviews.


	16. To Rivendell

To Rivendell

The world had been reduced to shifting grey shadows. They moved around him slowly lulling him into a quiet trance like state. He watched them dance around him with unblinking eyes until one of them drew very close. His heart skipped a beat and his breath quickened.

"Legolas?' Veren called the young elf's name softly. He leaned over and peered at him. The prince's cloudy blue eyes followed his movement but as he drew near they widened in panic.

"Legolas, we must leave here. I must get you to Rivendell. Elrond will know how to help you. I have not the skill. We can tarry no longer." Veren looked at him anxiously but his eyes gave no hint that he understood. He drew back.

Legolas saw the grey monster back away. He closed his eyes wearily, wishing they would all go away. Instead he felt strong arms lift him from his rest. They carried him for a very long time. He felt the cool air around him change to stinging, hot, suffocating wind. He turned away from it and pressed his face against the cool soft skin of his captor.

On reaching the camp, Veren placed the young elf on the ground and saw Elladan help Elrohir to sit.

"Elladan," he called urgently, "find me clothing for him to wear. The sun affects him."

Elladan pawed through the bag and finally unearthed a soft white shirt. He passed it to the elven warrior, who slipped the long sleeved, knee length shirt over Legolas' head. His skin was still hot and showed no sign of waning, but the shivering and sweating had stopped.

Elrohir mounted his horse stiffly and Elladan seated himself immediately behind, for though Elrohir could walk unaided, he suffered unexpected moments of dizziness. It would not do for him to fall off his mount. Veren raised Legolas to his feet and bodily placed him on the waiting horse. Mounting quickly as did Elladan, they rode away from the mountains.

Legolas felt the monster's arms around his waist and leaned back wearily onto his enemy's chest. Every bone in his body ached and every touch burned his already burning skin. His eyes were aching pools of fire in his head and his head was pounding. His every heartbeat sent pain throbbing in his temples. 'I must burst soon,' he thought, 'only a super being far stronger than I could contain such pain.' But that was not his only trial. Every motion of the animal beneath caused his skin to chafe painfully against the clothing he wore. He plucked at the long sleeves unhappily. The hot air of midday beat against his unprotected face and soon his world shrunk even more. It had become a place of unbearable torment.

Veren called an early halt as night fell. It had been his intention to ride through the night, but Legolas had been squirming in obvious pain for quite some time and the twins had started to fall behind. He realized he would put them all in danger if he continued.

Elrohir dismounted with a groan and would have fallen if Elladan had not been there to catch him. They camped under the trees, huddled close together on the ground. No fire was lit for they had no wish to attract unwanted attention. Veren changed the dressing on Elrohir's wounds. They all drank the clean cool water taken from the pool they had left behind. Legolas drank greedily when Elladan put the sack to his lips but he would not eat the bread.

Elrohir fell asleep resting in the crook of his brother's arms while Veren hovered over Legolas trying to cool the heat that burned fiercely from his skin.

Time passed and in the still of the night Elladan spoke.

"When last did you sleep my Lord?"

Veren turned tired eyes on the younger elf who held his twin in his arms.

"If I do what will become of us? That orc lives still and there are many foul creatures that hunt the weak in the night shadows. They can smell our wounded and our fear from leagues away."

"Even so, tiredness in the strong makes us weaker still. I will keep watch until I cannot. This I promise you."

Veren did indeed long for rest, his body quivered minutely in his near exhaustion. Yet he looked long and hard at Elladan. Finally he leaned back on his haunches and nodded saying,

"If Legolas awakens, wake me immediately."

Elladan nodded in assent.

"Wake me if you hear anything odd."

Elladan nodded again, trying not to smile. Veren spoke as though he were an elfling.

"Wake me even if what you hear is a strong breeze _pen neth_."

At this Elladan did grin, but Veren simply wrapped himself loosely in his cloak and was almost instantly asleep. He put himself between Legolas and the twins.

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The night air was cool; it blew gently through the leaves of the sleeping trees. The wind naughtily picked up the auburn hair of the elf that was leaning against a tree trunk and tossed it across his face. The elf did not stir for though his eyes were half lidded, he was lost in elven dreams.

The wind blew the long black hair of the elf that lay sleeping on the ground, but he did not awaken. It took the black silken strands and tickled the nose of the golden haired elf who lay with wide open eyes, staring at nothing. He blinked. The wind gusted merrily under his short shirt, up his thighs over his torso and brought the scent of greenness to his nose.

Come and play said the wind.

He took a deep breath and his fingers twitched. He turned his head to the side letting the black hair slide off his face. A pale face was next to his under all that black hair. A beautiful face with closed eyes, straight black brows, a delicate nose and masculine lips. Those lips were slightly parted and small puffs of air went in and out.

Legolas sat up and was amazed at the two headed creature that lay not far from him. Both faces were identical. One pair of the creatures eyes were closed, the other was open. Both heads were breathing in tandem. The elf with the pale golden hair got quietly but shakily to his feet. The wind ever playful blew his unbound hair back from his face… then straight into his eyes. The elf turned around trying to evade the wind, but it caressed his hot skin and lifted the edge of his white shirt. Legolas gasped at the intrusion and tugged at the offending cloth; but the wind blew a little stronger and pulled the shirttail out of his hand. It blew straight at him and caused his hair to stream backward like a living river. Legolas gave a little laugh. He opened his arms wide and tilted his head back. He closed his eyes and let the wind have it way. What a picture he struck.

Whether caused by the heat that consumed him or no, his body glowed with special radiance. A maia of gold and white he seemed to be, poised with bare legs braced and white gold hair flying in utter abandon and ultimate joy. It was a breathtaking sight and it was the only thing that saved their lives, for the orc, having only death and blood on his mind could do more than pause before the unearthly sight.

But the wind was no friend of the orc or other despoiled things that walked the face of Arda. It blew away from the stench of its hideous body and the scent was carried unerringly to the one who lay half sitting, half lying clutching his replica to himself. And it was so that the elf came awake, hazel eyes focusing in sudden alarm and he leapt to his feet, letting his double fall to the ground and he drew his sword to face the enemy.

The orc, hearing the sound, turned with a snarl, stepped forward into the shadow of the trees and his eyes glowed with hatred. He saw the black haired elf roll and knowing he was the more dangerous of the two, fired two black tipped arrows in rapid succession. They ploughed into the elf's body and pinned him to the ground. Dropping his bow the orc drew a curved pitted blade and turned to do battle with the elf of hazel eyes.

Legolas saw the creature of his nightmare. He saw the creature with glowing red eyes and dripping fangs come striding out from under the trees. He saw the loosed arrows hit the elf of midnight black hair and heard his grunts of pain. He dropped to his knees at the elf's side and somehow a silver sword was in his hands. He leapt over the immobile elf and ran to do battle with the creature.

The orc parried a thrust and kicked the elf in the midriff. The elf staggered back and tripped over the body of his twin. Giving a howl of victory the orc swung his blade down in an arc toward the unprotected neck of the sprawled elf.

But his blade met a silver one and the resultant clang echoed under the trees. Startled the orc looked up only to see the feverish blue eyes of his desire.

"Gildak!" he cried his eyes going wide in disbelief.

But all Legolas heard was a slow, yawning, rumble of dark noise and what he saw was his enemy's mouth open and yellowed fangs protrude. So he forced their blades up and around in a continuous arc until the creature's sword was pinned beneath his. With lighting fast speed that not even the orc could follow Legolas spun and the sword cut through the orc's neck like a scythe through ripe wheat. Black blood gushed from the headless body and rained on the elf until he was covered with it. But Legolas did not stop for fear and rage burned equally in him and he hacked at the dead body like a mindless thing.

Elladan rushed to him and stopped him in mid swing. He saw madness blazing in his friend's eyes and wrenched the sword from his grasp. Legolas stared up at the brown haired elf for a long moment then opened his mouth wide and began to scream.

0000000000

The horses galloped with long strides and sweat lathered their sides, yet they did not slow or falter for their riders' need pushed them to their limit. The rider's faces were grim. Veren's shoulder had been ripped by one of the orc's arrows and it bled freely. Elrohir's slashed back was no better and Veren suspected that the warg's claws had introduced some natural venom into his elven blood. He rode double with Elladan who held him tightly around the waist.

It was Legolas though, who had them all worried for after his screaming fit in the wood, he had begun to rant at them and claw at himself. Veren had tied his hands and now they rode together. Legolas leaned against him like a limp rag, his skin still burned and he was covered in black ichor. But it was the incessant mumbling of incoherent words that came tumbling from his lips that caused Veren to ride like the dark souls of Morgorth were on their heels. Legolas was using the black speech.

00000000000

It was Aragorn who first heard the horses clatter over the wooden bridge that led onto the courtyard. He jumped off the stone bench and ran with all speed to the front of the house. He had taken to sitting in the garden everyday under Legolas' favourite tree. He skidded to a halt at the front steps. A very dishevelled Veren was taking a limp and dirty golden haired elf from his horse.

"Legolas." Aragorn whispered in disbelief. He ran forward only to be held back by Glorfindel who had appeared out of nowhere.

"Wait Estel." He cautioned.

Elves poured out of the house. He saw a healer take Legolas from Veren and hurry inside. Elladan passed carrying Elrohir and even Elrond could not make him give up his brother to stronger arms. Aragorn tried to pull away then, but the elf lord was having none of it.

"Wait Estel, let them work. Your father needs all his energy focused on healing them right now. If you go in there you will distract him, you know you are not well and he will worry about you."

Aragorn nodded, but it was the hardest thing he had ever done. Together they went into the foyer. Glorfindel held Aragorn as the young man sobbed quietly. Not many days ago, Aragorn's life had hung in the balance, now, only a few days later he was a mere shadow of himself. Glorfindel knew why he cried. Legolas had looked close to death. The elf lord prayed with his whole heart and soul that the young prince live. Losing him would be hard enough. But if he died they would have to bury not one but two, for he knew Aragorn would not survive it.

000000000000

The healers worked feverishly over Elrohir. He had taken in with fever and his back was inflamed. Many anti venoms were tried before one finally gave good results. By that time his body was soaked with sweat and his breathing was fast and shallow. Elladan knelt on the floor by the bed, where he could see his twin's face. He refused to move even when Veren, who had already been bandaged and deemed healthy, came and held him by the shoulder.

"Let him sleep Elladan. He is all right now."

Elladan stubbornly shook his head. He reached out a trembling hand and tucked a wayward strand of hair behind his brother's ear. He was more than a little shocked when Elrohir's hand reached for his.

"Yes Lada, go away and let me sleep, you snore awfully." He whispered weakly with a tiny smile.

Elladan did not answer but grasped his brother hand. They stayed that way until Elrohir fell into a heavy sleep.


	17. I will go

I Will Go

Aragorn came awake with a jerk and sat up quickly as he heard light footsteps on the wooden floor. He looked up expecting to see the face of his father. Instead Elladan's smiling face beamed down at him.

"Good morning sluggards." He said taking in the tired face of Glorfindel and the worn face of Estel.

Aragorn turned guiltily to Glorfindel, realising he had slept all night in the venerable warriors embrace. But Glorfindel shushed him and excused himself saying. "I shall go and see what Erestor has prepared for morning meal."

As he left Elladan took his seat carefully balancing the two cups of hot tea he carried. He pressed one into Aragorn's hands. Aragorn took a sip and realized that he had not thought of his brother since they had returned. His only thought had been of Legolas.

"How does Elrohir fare, Lada?" he asked at last.

"He is well; they have found a venom that fights the one that is in his body."

"Lada, I am sorry I did not come up to see him. I…"

Elladan placed a finger on Aragorn's lips for a long moment.

"Do not apologize. Since he took ill from that wound I have thought of nothing and no one else Estel; not father, not you and not Legolas. I could not. That does not mean that I love you all any less. So I understand what you feel. The bond you have with him is as strong as the one between 'Lir and I."

"Have you seen him, how is he?" Aragorn asked hope shining in his eyes.

"Father put him in a room by himself. He has allowed no one in but the healers. They have been working all night. We should have some word soon." Elladan reached for Aragorn's hands and held the slightly colder hands in his warm ones. To him Aragorn appeared frail, a word he would never have used to describe his half elven brother before.

"He saved our lives you know, all of us." Elladan said.

Aragorn turned soulful eyes that seemed wholly grey on his brother. "Tell me." He begged.

Between the urgings of Glorfindel and Elladan, Aragorn found himself sharing the morning meal in the kitchen. Each time someone approached they would all look up expectantly but to no avail. There was no word on Legolas.

It was drawing close to noon time and they were all sitting in the great hall when Veren appeared silently at one of the open doorways. He was dressed in a long sleeved floor length black robe. His long black hair, still wet from his long bath was pulled over one shoulder. They looked at him expectantly.

"Estel," he said in hid low soothing voice, "Lord Elrond wishes to see you. Only you." He continued, looking at Elladan and Glorfindel pointedly.

Aragorn rose with a quaking heart, but no emotion showed on Veren's face,

"I think I shall visit Elrohir, he must be bored without me." Said Elladan rising as well.

"And I shall accompany you." Glorfindel declared.

Veren gave them both a long stare, but short of tying them down there was nothing he could do.

They walked down the wide hall and with each step Aragorn's heart beat faster. Elladan caught his hand and squeezed it. Aragorn glanced at him. Courage his eyes seemed to say, but Aragorn could not respond. Finally they entered the rooms of healing. There Elrohir slept peacefully in a wide bed close to the outer wall. Elladan stayed at his bedside with Glorfindel, but Aragorn walked with Veren until they came to a closed door.

It opened quietly and Aragorn stepped into the room. Elrond stood at Legolas' bedside. There were bottles, needles and bandages everywhere; on the table, on the chair, on the floor and on the window ledge. Aragorn's eyes darted everywhere unwilling to look at the still white figure on the bed. That, that statue could not be his friend, no not Legolas. Elrond held out his hand and Aragorn walked into his embrace. He buried his head in Elrond's shoulder. Elrond held him for a long time as Aragorn fought with his tears.

"I have managed to get the fever down _ion nin, _but I think this poison, whatever it was has already run its course and done its job. I think you should be with him now."

**Before he dies.**

The words were unspoken, but they hung in the silence between them. Elrond let himself quietly out of the room. "I will be outside when you need me."

"Do you think it wise to leave him alone?" questioned Veren as soon as Elrond slipped out of the room.

"He must face this Veren, no one can do it for him." But even as he said the words Elrond's face was bleak. He dreaded the prince's death, for it would be swiftly followed by his human son's.

Aragorn slowly turned from the window to look on the still pale face of the elven prince. His long black lashes were the only spots of colour on his face. Where was the laughter? Where were the smiles? Where were his silver tears that fell when he cried? Aragorn slowly sat on the bed and took up a long, slender, white hand and pressed it to his cheek. The hand was cold.

"Do not leave me _Lasgalen._" He begged. "You cannot do this. You have taken my heart and now you wish to break it." Aragorn stopped as tears overwhelmed him. Legolas lay so still and pale. He felt he spoke to a ghost. He lay himself down next to the elf's body, keeping one hand clasped in his own. He curled up against him and nestled his face in the hollow between his shoulder and neck. The scent of rain and crushed grass rose from the pale skin.

"I will go with you _mellon nin_. If you cannot come back to me I will go with you."

Aragorn stretched a long arm across his friend's slender chest and hugged him. His fingers drifted through the long pale golden strands, which had been carefully placed over one shoulder. He closed his eyes and let his spirit go.

0000000

Legolas had been walking the corridors of the grey maze for an eternity. Every passage led to nowhere and every twist led back to the beginning. He had become frustrated at last and had screamed and shouted. No one answered. Trying again until tears came to his eyes, he had flung away his bow and knives. He begged and prayed but no one came.

Finally his spirit had flagged and spent, he sat heavily on the ground leaning tiredly against a grey wall with his hands in his lap. His blue eyes were dimming and his breath seemed to fade. He stared at the long passage ahead of him. He was unwilling to try again. He closed his eyes and felt the cold gather around him, let it come. He would have stayed there forever if the voice had not spoken.

"Legolas?" it called

Legolas sat up not daring to trust his ears.

"Legolas _ya__ ier le?_" it called again.

"Aragorn!" he answered in a whisper. Then emboldened he shouted "Aragorn! I am here, right here!"

But the voice, sounding as weak and as tired as he was kept calling and drifted further away.

Legolas got to his feet, Aragorn was somewhere in this place, he must find him. He ran down the long corridor with determination, calling out to his friend.

"Aragorn, speak to me."

"Legolas." The voice was weak but it was close.

Suddenly there was a door and Legolas wrenched it open. There in the middle of the room was his human friend.

"Aragorn." Legolas cried, running to him. He hugged him fiercely, he felt cold. "You are freezing, what are you doing here?"

"I was looking for you.' Aragorn said fresh tears escaping his eyes. "I thought I had lost you."

"I will never leave you Aragorn, as long as you need me I will stay with you. I swear it." Said Legolas.

"And I you.' Aragorn promised.

0000000000

In the room Aragorn took a deep breath as he came back to himself. He rose unsteadily off the bed to see Legolas fighting to breathe. A deep gurgle came from his throat.

"_Ada__!_" Aragorn shouted.

Elrond followed by Veren, Glorfindel and Elladan burst into the room. Elrond took one look at the bed and quickly flew to the elf's side. He brought him to a sitting position. Legolas' chest heaved and a sickly smelling yellow green liquid came gushing out of his mouth. Elrond turned him to the side and Elladan quickly passed a wide bowl to catch the mess. The poison poured out of him until he was weak from heaving. Elrond wiped his mouth and brow and bade Aragorn put some pillows to keep him upright. At Aragorn's cry Elrond had expected to see a dead prince lying on the bed. He was humbly grateful to see Legolas had fought his way to life. He noticed the tremor in Aragorn's body and somehow knew that death had brushed Estel as well.

"Rest now Legolas. I think the worst is over. You will need to build your strength and the best was is to start immediately." Elrond signalled to Elladan. With a big grin Elladan went down to the kitchen to get a warm liquid meal for the patient.

Legolas looked at each face in turn and stayed on Aragorn the longest. He frowned then blinked then turned to Lord Elrond.

"What happened?" he asked.

Elrond's mouth formed into a large O of surprise and even Veren was hard put not to giggle. It was Glorfindel though who finally burst out laughing and caused everyone else to join in. Elrond held onto his sides in an effort to quell the laugh that threatened to surface again at Legolas' surprised face.

"Excuse us little one, but we cannot help it. There is no way to answer your question without many days telling and right now you do not have the strength for it. I suspect that you will remember in a few days."

With these words Legolas had to be content. Indeed as the days went by he did remember the horror of what had passed. Many times he woke out of the dreadful nightmare with a racing heart. Through it all Aragorn was at his side for which he was ever grateful.

Elrohir, finally let out of bed stayed with them an entire day, closely attended by Elladan. Not once did they bicker or fuss over anything. Legolas marvelled at the change, but Aragorn knew them better.

"Give them a few days, you will see.' He said with a smirk. Legolas had to smile.

Veren disappeared for quite a few days and when he returned presented Legolas with a present wrapped in parchment.

'I think," he said as he placed it in the young elf's hand "that you will know what to do with these."

Legolas unwrapped it with trembling fingers and gave a gasp at what he found. Tied together was a long lock of his hair and a jagged edge metal dagger. Legolas looked up with wet eyes to thank Veren but the elf was gone.

"How did he know?" Legolas turned to Aragorn.

"I think I told him once." Aragorn admitted.

"I hated when he would pull it out and smell it. I felt like a part of me always belonged to him." Legolas said turning over the hair in his hands.

"Well now it is yours again." Aragorn replied.

"Did I truly kill him Aragorn?"

"You still do not remember?"

Legolas only shook his head, staring at the items in his lap.

"Tell me, why does Veren always wear black and why does he carry two swords? I have not heard of any other elf who does." Legolas asked trying to chase away his sudden melancholy.

"Well, he wears black because it goes best with his hair." Aragorn said grinning.

Legolas laughed, his eyes sparkling with merriment.

"Truly Aragorn you do not lie well at all. And what of the swords?"

"Well, the truth is that he swore on his family's death never to stop mourning until he had avenged them. One of the swords belonged to his adar, the other to his youngest brother.

Legolas nodded in understanding.

The next day was cold and clear, but it did not hamper the small fire that burned fiercely in the field. Three elves and one half human stood with bowed heads looking on as the fire consumed a long swath of golden hair and melted the metal of the dagger next to it. Legolas felt a sense of release. That part of his life was finally over. It was time to forget, to move forward and to never look back. He looked up to see the twins and Aragorn watching him closely.

"I'm alright.' He said to them. "At least I will be."

Elrohir opened his mouth to reply but instead let it hang open. He stared past them as someone who approached. The others turned and they too stared open mouthed. It was Lord Veren. Gone was the sombre clothing and the dour faced elf. He was resplendent in a wine coloured tunic, dark brown leggings and darker brown boots. His hair was intricately braided and flowed over both shoulders. On his face he wore a big grin; obviously he was delighted by their reaction.

"Lord Elrond requests your presence in the dining hall elflings." He drawled.

The twins spluttered taking offence at being called thus. But Aragorn was curious.

"Why the change my Lord?'

For answer Veren pulled from an ever available pouch two rings, one small knife and a brooch.

"These belonged to my brothers.' He said touching the rings and the knife. "This my mother gave to my father." He touched the brooch. "When you told me about of that creature's penchant for keeping trophies, I went back to his lair and found these among many others. Once again I must thank you Legolas; you have rid the world of a very evil thing." Lord Veren bowed low to the prince. He then turned and led the way back to the house.

Legolas looked at Aragorn who shrugged then at the twins who smiled. The Mirkwood prince really did not know what to say.

_FINIS_

_ya__ ier le?_ Where are you?

To

silvertoekee Thank you for your great reviews and for sticking with me to the end.

Hissori ookami You words were heart felt and much appreciated I hope you enjoy.


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